


Echo a Spark

by usernicole



Series: flicker [2]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Anxiety Attacks, Body Horror, Emotional Abuse, Established Relationship, M/M, Post-Season/Series 04, Shiro (Voltron) Has a Clone, please read authors notes for extra warnings, reckless interpretations of the voltron lions, weird dream stuff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-15
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-19 01:49:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 72,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13694358
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/usernicole/pseuds/usernicole
Summary: Lance learns to stand on his own two feet.a sequel to A Light in the Dark





	1. PART ONE

**Author's Note:**

> heeeeere it is!! im VERY worried.
> 
> so i wrote a season 4 fix-it fic, and then i went "what if i wrote season 5 fix-it fic before season 5 even came out?" and then i went "and what if i made it SCARY" i guess reading the first one isn't TOO necessary, but it would definitely help. it's also definitely sweeter than this one so what are u even doing
> 
> this is the most ambitious thing i've ever written, and also the longest. the second part isn't done yet, but it's getting there. thanks SOOO Much to [miraculance](http://www.miraculance.tumblr.com) on tumblr for reading this over for me in the middle of MOVING TO PRAGUE and my good friend nia for reading most of it in the middle of fuckin midterms. they're fuckin amazing 
> 
> **!!! WARNINGS !!!** this fic deals with some really dark themes. lance isn't in a really good place for a lot of it, and it gets worse before it gets better. it deals a lot with feelings of anxiety, isolation, and generally feeling useless. this isn't the nicest fic!! there's also some pretty graphically violent scenes, and some (pretty tame tbh) body horror. if you're sensitive to stuff like this, i'd urge u to find something else to read. there are more warnings i want to put, but i'm going to put them in notes at the end, as they're pretty spoilery. **IF YOU WANT MORE WARNINGS PLEASE GO TO THE END NOTES**

Lance is running.

Back on Earth, he used to run for fun. He tried to keep fit before the Garrison mandated it. He had liked it. He liked the sweet, sleepy sound of his town waking up. He liked the feeling of the soles of his shoes against the pavement. It felt like he was going somewhere, even though it was just in wide circles, from one side of town to the other. He liked to listen to music while he ran, the bass loud and thrilling in his ears, matching up to the heightened beating of his heart. His mom had hated the loud music because it meant he was less aware of his surroundings.

Now, years and solar systems away from home, Lance wonders if he’s ever been _more_ aware of his surroundings. He can’t seem to focus on any one thing, eyes darting back and forth. His breathing is loud and erratic within the confines of his helmet. It’s only drowned out by the beating of his own heart, and the occasional whistle of gunfire as it passes too close to him.

His hands clench around his transformed bayard to the point of pain, and he does his best to stagger his path, to make himself a harder target to hit. The ground underneath him is hard, and he kicks up dust with every step. He’s run what feels like the length of this entire planet, but with a small army of Galra soldiers at his back, it doesn’t feel like he’s going anywhere.

“Guys,” he wheezes into the comm, “Guys, do you copy? I could use a little help— _Fuck!”_ He hops awkwardly as a shot gets a little too close for comfort and lands right where his right ankle had been. “Guys...really, come in. I’m...I can’t.”

His voice is sounding embarrassingly distressed, cracking like he's going through puberty a second time. He click, click, clicks the side of his helmet, doing all he can to contact his friends. The communicator provides nothing, not even static.

With every step his limbs get heavier, his strides shorter. He can hear the heavy clanking of their armor, the whir of their blasters. This part of the planet is an open plane, flat and barren as far as the eye can see. It’s blue sky and white earth, bright enough to hurt his eyes. There’s nowhere to hide, and it’s impossible for Lance to gain the distance necessary for him to even think of taking out the soldiers behind him.

“Keith warned me about this,” he says to himself. “‘ _Lance, you need to work more on your hand-to-hand combat.’_ Somewhere out there he’s got that stupid smirk on his face, and he doesn’t even know why.” Then, he’s stumbling, a cry of pain wrenched from his throat.

He keeps moving, catching himself on one hand and pushing himself upright. The side of his left leg is burning, and he’s limping, but he’s gotta go. Surrender isn’t an option here.

“Guys,” he tries again. “Guys, please. I’m—I’m alone.” Where _are_ they?

They’re gaining on him, the pounding of their footsteps like thunder. The horizon before him holds nothing, least of all hope, so he closes his eyes against it. He keeps pushing forward, but he doesn’t want the last thing he sees to be that endless expanse, lonely incarnate. He keeps running, though, because his mom didn’t raise him to be a quitter.

His leg hurts. He grips his bayard even tighter. He shuts his eyes, and he thinks of his team, his family, and Keith, in that order.

Before Lance can open his eyes, the earth beneath him shakes, the ground moving under the weight of a mighty slam, and then another, and another. And when he turns to look, there she is. The red lion, lithe and regal and so fucking _gorgeous_. She’s running alongside him, a sandstorm beneath her feet. Every step she takes lifts Lance in the air, coming back down on a stumble. She looks at him, and throws her head back in a roar. Lance skids to a stop, his whole body vibrating with the force of it.

 _Not alone,_ she projects in that quasi-magical lion language. _Never alone._

Lance nods, voice lost in his awestruck state. He gives his bayard a couple shakes, cycling through forms before settling on his familiar rifle. The red lion curls behind him, tail whipping through the air menacingly. Lance straightens his posture, lifting his rifle to his shoulder. He can do this. He can push forward. His mama didn’t raise a quitter.

He turns to face the Galra. He closes one eye, and exhales. Behind him, the red lion makes a noise not unlike a purr.

***

He wakes up.

***

Keith’s face on the screen is dark and broody, frowning and gray like a raincloud. Lance loves it all the same, wishes he were there with him so he could press his thumb at the crease between Keith’s eyebrows. Even in his purple armor, Keith’s torso looks inviting, like a safe place for Lance to curl up and forget everything. Lance’s arms shake with the need to wrap around something, and be held in return.

“I don’t like it,” Keith says, not for the first time. His scowl deepens.

“Well it’s a good thing it doesn’t matter whether or not you like it then, huh, babe?” Lance says, raising an eyebrow. “It’s not like I’m asking _permission_.”

“No, of course not,” Keith sighs. He looks tired like he always looks tired, even after the team has gone out of their way to try and stop him from actively destroying himself at every opportunity. “I just...does it have to be you?”

Lance does his best to pretend the words don’t affect him, but he apparently fails, because Keith stammers and tries again. “Not that I think you’re...you’re _incapable._ I know you can take care of yourself just fine, I _know_ that. I just—”

He stops, and takes a stab at smiling. It’s weak and thin in the dim light of Keith’s room. “I don’t really like the idea of my boyfriend alone with Lotor. I’m worried, can you blame me?”

Even under the sharp sting of hurt over Keith’s apparent (though vehemently denied) lack of faith in him, Lance feels a little kickstart in his heart at the word “boyfriend.” He wants to pound at his chest and reprimand the organ. _You, stop that._

“There’s no one else,” Lance says. “Everyone else has better shit to do, you know that. I’m free when not on missions, and Lotor apparently needs a babysitter so…” He shrugs, gesturing at himself demonstratively.

“I don’t understand why he needs to stay in the castle,” Keith says. “Is there really no other place for him? No, uh, I don’t know, rebel prison? Marmoran hideout? A really, really deep hole?”

Lance laughs, but it sounds weak. “No. No rebel prison, and you’d know more about the Blade than I do. We’ve already bounced him around different bases for a few months. Allura and Shiro say he needs to stay here because the empire is still looking for him. This way we can keep an eye on him and make sure he’s, y’know, sincere.”

“I don’t trust him.”

Lance sits back, rolling his eyes. “Of course you don’t, babe,” Lance says. “You don’t trust anyone.”

“I trust people. I trust the team, and Kolivan. I trust you.” Keith sighs, running a hand through his hair and looking to the side. When he looks back at Lance, he’s smiling. “I guess I should start acting like it, huh?”

“Damn straight,” Lance says. He grabs his phone and lays down, raising it up over his head. “Now, can we not talk shop for like, five minutes? We’re on borrowed time, here. Let’s do mushy boyfriend stuff. Tell me I’m pretty. Gaze lovingly into my eyes.”

Keith snorts, and for the first time that night his smile is more than just a twitch of his cheeks. “You’re pretty,” he says, deadpan.

“Thank you.”

“Pretty ugly.”

“ _Keith._ ”

***

Lance wakes up, and the first thing he does is don his armor.

This is unusual for him. Usually, he likes to retain some sense of normalcy. He’ll wake up, text Keith good morning, do his skincare routine, and head down to the kitchens in his blue lion pajamas, ready and willing to pester anyone he sees on the way there into eating breakfast with him. He’ll grumble good-naturedly about having to train, tease the others about their bedhead, attempt to sneakily slide some of his goo over onto Hunk’s plate.

No one’s really had the time for stuff like that in a while, too busy with coalition stuff. And anyway, starting today, Lance has a job to do.

Before he leaves his room, he grabs his phone to text Keith good morning, as usual. It’s a dumb, sentimental habit. Keith is rarely on the same schedule as Lance. Lance likes to do it, though. He likes to think it makes Keith’s day a little brighter, to know someone’s thinking of him. It helps Lance, too, knowing that he has someone to do this for.

There’s unread text messages waiting for him, and he frowns.

 **Keith:** Heading out on a long mission. Will text when I’m back. Good luck with Lotor, Lance. I trust you.

 **Keith:** Love you.

Lance sighs, resting his cheek in the palm of his hand. He can feel the worry settle in his chest, familiar after countless missions.

“kk,” he texts back. “good luck!! love u!!”

He closes the messenger app, locking his phone. After a moment, he activates it again, staring down at his lock screen.

It's him and Keith, of course, from one of Keith’s many visits. In the picture, Lance is kissing him, lips pressed to Keith’s cheek, and Keith is laughing, eyes shining at the camera. Lance remembers taking the picture, how his shaking hands had blurred the edges of it. He had been so _relieved._ Relieved to have Keith home safe, to have Keith in his arms, whole and warm.

There’s a knock at his door, and Lance's shoulders tense unconsciously.

“Morning,” Shiro says, once Lance has opened the door. He looks...annoyed. These days, it seems like he always looks that way when he sees Lance, even when Lance hasn’t done anything. Like now.

“Morning,” Lance says, smiling weakly. Shiro’s expression doesn’t change. Lance would like to think it’s one of Shiro’s now-frequent headaches that have made him this way, or maybe the stress. Sometimes, though, it’s as though Lance is the only one that gets this Shiro, cold and no-nonsense. _I guess that’s what I get for not blindly following his every order_ , Lance thinks bitterly. Then he feels bad.

The thing about Lance is he knows he’s obnoxious. He may not always be the most self-aware when he’s in the moment, loud and flirty and over-confident, but he’s a thoughtful guy. He thinks probably too much about what other people think of him, and he over-compensates. It’s overwhelming, right, being so present, being surrounded on all sides. He should be used to it, but he isn’t.

The whole right hand man thing isn’t working between him and Shiro, and it never has. Shiro just doesn’t value Lance’s opinion enough to take his suggestions seriously, and a lifetime of bad self esteem just has Lance working harder for validation. He’s trying not to let it get to him.

“I was just on my way to find you,” Lance says, walking over to set his phone on his desk, exchanging it for his bayard. “Babysitting duty, right?”

He moves the bayard to his hip, ready to attach it to the magnetic clip, when he catches Shiro’s expression in the reflection of his phone screen. He’s stone-faced, his dark eyes almost angry. Lance can feel the hair on the back of his neck rise up, his heart beating loud in his ears. He tries to shake it off, because he’s in the castle. He’s safe, it’s _Shiro_ , but there’s something there in that look that’s throwing Lance out of whack. He shivers, feeling like his brain is squirming away in his head. It feels gross.

There’s a rumble, deep in his chest. He presses his knuckles to his sternum, sending calming thoughts to the Red Lion. The rumbling grows louder, restless. Lance clears his throat, turning to face Shiro with a smile.

He keeps his bayard in his hand.

***

 _“I say we get outta here,”_ Lance had said, back on Naxzela, before they’d been pinned like a bug to the ground and he became so, so sure they were going to die.

Now, he may not seem like it, but Lance is a planner. If it doesn’t involve a hot date or a birthday cake, he doesn’t like surprises. Especially now, when being surprised can mean life or death for him or his friends. He thinks a lot about that day, that awful feeling, and what he could have done better.

They _should_ have left. They should have bailed as soon as those weird pillars appeared. Lance isn’t sure of much, but he’s sure of that. They wasted a lot of time on that planet that could have went towards saving others. Namely, Voltron probably could have snapped Haggar’s cruiser in half like nothing.

Maybe if they had left as soon as everything went to shit on Naxzela, they could have prevented the deaths of so many of their rebel allies. Maybe they could have taken Haggar out completely, rather than give her an opportunity for escape—thank you very much, Lotor. And speaking of, maybe they wouldn’t be in the debt of a shady asshole with daddy issues, and Lance wouldn’t have to spend his time hanging around the lower decks of the castleship.

But most of all, if they had managed to escape Naxzela’s devastating gravitational pull, maybe Keith wouldn’t have...

Anyway. It’s not like Lance hasn’t thought of all sides to this. If they hadn’t followed Shiro’s orders and gone down to the planet's core, they wouldn’t have known it was a bomb in the first place. Thank fuck for Hunk’s nerdy, glorious self. He saved them. He saved an _entire galaxy._

What Lance can’t seem to shake, though, what keeps him up at night and what keeps his bayard in his hand as he navigates the castle corridors with Shiro, is that if Hunk hadn’t known what that material was they probably would have spent all that time wandering like idiots through that empty base. Haggar would have completed her spell. Several planets would have been destroyed. _Voltron_ would have been destroyed.

No matter how Lance looks at it, it was a bad call, and it’s like no one else realizes it.

“The castle doesn’t have anything like a brig, or any type of prison cell,” Shiro explains, waving open the doors to one of the ship’s many elevators. He waits for Lance to enter before pushing his way in himself. “The concept was too messy for the Alteans, apparently,” he says, shooting a small smile Lance’s way. “Which is why they have the modified cryopods, like what we kept Sendak in. However, if we want to get anything useful from Lotor we’re going to need him conscious and talking. Pidge and Hunk have modified one of the lower storage rooms into a makeshift cell using the electric shock technology Pidge’s bayard uses. He won’t be getting out unless we let him.”

Lance knows this, all of this. He had been briefed before, when he agreed to guard duty in the first place. He swallows down the feeling of irritation at being lectured like a little kid. “But you still need me there, just in case he does. Get out, that is.”

“Yes,” Shiro says. The elevator comes to a stop, and they make their way out. This far down in the lower decks, Coran doesn’t bother using full power. There’s no purpose, without anyone using them. The only light comes from the faint blue emergency lights that line the floor in all directions, and the soft strips that line their paladin armor. Lance wonders if the decision to keep these floors at low power despite Lotor (and now Lance) occupying them was still in the interest of conservation, or if it was meant to be some kind of intimidation tactic. Eyeing the sharp line of Shiro’s jaw, skin pale blue in the low light, Lance can admit he’s feeling a little intimidated.

“We need someone around in case he tries anything tricky,” Shiro says, making his way down the dark hallways. “And who better than the team sharpshooter? Keenest eyes out of all of us.”

Lance laughs, only a little nervously. “Right, I’m awesome. We all know it.” He throws a quick wink and finger gun at Shiro, but can’t help thinking that it comes across as a little pathetic. Keenest eyes. Sharpshooter. Everyone knows he’s doing this because everyone else is doing more important things. Maybe it’s the fact that Lance can feel himself becoming someone much more untrusting, much more cynical, but the words Shiro is spouting sound fake. Lance does his best to shake it off.

It’s obvious fairly quickly when they begin to approach the cell. The sheer barrier of the outer wall of it bleeds a sickly green light across the floor. Lotor’s there, sitting in the far left corner on what looks like a makeshift cot. He doesn’t move as they approach, just sits with his back to the wall, arms crossed over his chest. His eyes are closed, like he’s resting.

For a moment, the only sound is the faint hum of the device maintaining the electric barrier, and Lance swallows. Abruptly, this all seems a bit _Silence of the Lambs_ , and Lance feels a shiver climb and drop his spine.

“Right,” Shiro says. “Someone will come to relieve you later on, so you can get some food and sleep. Until then, stay here. Keep an eye on things. And, Lance?”

Lance looks away from Lotor’s still form, up into Shiro’s dark eyes.

“I know it’s like you can’t help yourself sometimes,” Shiro says, lowering his voice so only Lance can hear him. There’s something hard and a little mean in his expression. Lance thinks he’s maybe trying to look stern, but his whole presence just feels hostile. “But, for the love of Christ, do _not_ engage him. Don’t talk to him. Please, for once, just...don’t talk.”

Lance grits his teeth, feeling something like a growl burn in his chest. He takes a deep breath, sends soothing thoughts to the red lion. “Ay ay, captain,” he says, managing to sound only a little sarcastic. “Shutting up now.”

Shiro gives him a long suffering look before nodding up at the wall. “There’s a camera there, someone should be keeping an eye on the feed. If anything happens, or you need something, just wave.”

Lance bites down on the small shock of hurt that rises at the thought that he needs any kind of extra supervision and nods. Shiro nods back, turning on a heel and leaving.

Lance waits for Shiro to get about 10 feet away before he sticks his tongue out at Shiro’s back.

**

_Text Log — Stardate 01082348:1923_

**Lance:** day 1 of babysitting officially OVER

 **Lance:** god that shit was so boring babe u have no idea

 **Lance:** the dude just slept the entire time like WOWWWW

 **Lance:** cant WAIT for the next however long i have to keep doing this

 **Lance:** he is kinda hot tho. how come no one talks about that?

 **Lance:** dont worry tho babe ur still the only one for meee~ <3

_Text Log — Stardate 01092348:0214_

**Keith:** >:(

 **Keith:** He is NOT.

**

Lance lasts about three hours at attention the next day, facing the cell with his bayard activated and resting easily in his arms, before the boredom becomes too much.

The bayard goes down first, held loosely in his hands and pointed at the ground. He shifts, and it’s only in one hand, finger tapping distractedly at the trigger. Then it’s deactivated, clipped to the side of his hip, arms crossed across his chest. He goes from standing up straight, to leaning against the wall, to sliding down it and sitting on the ground. Every minute lasts an hour, every hour lasts a month.

He wants to groan, dropping his head back against the wall and stretching his long legs out in front of him. His feet are thankful for the rest, and he feels a little embarrassed about how short a time it took for him to break.

Sure, he could probably stand guard the whole time if he really wanted to, he _is_ a paladin of Voltron and he’s done worse for training before, but why should he? It’s not like Lotor is doing anything. All he does is sit on his little cot and pretend Lance doesn’t exist. It pisses Lance off, as though Lotor is above his company or something.

He grits his teeth, staring up at the ceiling. This was supposed to be his gig, his big break. This was what was going to make or break his position on the team. He’d managed a day as the perfect prison guard, standing tall and never taking his eyes off of Lotor, and, with Lance’s attention span, this was no small feat.

But no one is rewarded for insignificant things like being able to focus for longer than normal, no matter how difficult it is for him.

What he needs, he thinks guiltily, is an attempted prison break. He needs Lotor to snap, or Pidge’s force field to glitch out. He needs for there to be a tunnel hidden behind Lotor’s motionless back, painstakingly dug with a spoon (regardless of the fact that this is a ship, and any tunnel would just lead straight out into space). He needs an escape attempt of _some_ kind, so he can unlock his bayard and show Lotor—show _everyone_ —what he can really do.

Lance wants a chance, just a small one, to prove he's capable. He thunks his head against the wall again, sighing and closing his eyes. As much fun as it is imagining himself performing all kinds of heroic deeds, it’s not going to happen. Lotor has too much to lose in the outside world (namely, his life), and, despite the harsh treatment, he hasn’t shown signs of any ulterior motive other than survival.

 _Hell,_ Lance thinks, _if it weren't for him, Keith would have…_

There’s a rustle of cloth, and Lance’s eyes shoot open, hand jumping to the bayard at his hip. He looks to the cell, heart beating in his throat.

Lotor’s eyes are open for the first time, staring directly at Lance. In the darkness of his shadowed corner, Lotor’s pupils shine metallic in the dim, green light, glinting like a cat's. His expression is inscrutable, the set of his mouth flat and vaguely unfriendly. Lance shivers. He feels trapped.

After a long moment, Lotor turns minutely, closing his eyes again. He returns to his previous state of quiet meditation. Lance feels a bead of sweat run down the back of his neck and into the high collar of his undersuit.

He waits a few seconds, but Lotor doesn’t move again. Lance sighs, internally berating himself for acting so scared, for showing his weakness so blatantly. The guy hadn’t even _done_ anything.

He pulls his helmet off and runs a hand through his hair, disappointed in himself. Then he stands up, grabs his bayard, and returns to standing at attention.

***

The sixth day, Shiro and Allura lead Lotor out of his cell, hands locked into a set of comically large cuffs, for what Allura calls a “strategy meeting” but what seems to Lance to be more like an interrogation.

But whatever, it’s no skin off Lance’s back. This means he has at least a few hours to himself where he doesn’t have to stand around in a dark storage room. Lance may be desperate for a job, but he still likes his free time

He takes this time to look for Hunk.

“Ayyy, buddy,” Lance calls across the hangar of the yellow lion. Hunk tilts back from where he had been elbow deep in Yellow’s flank, waving cheerfully. For once, he’s alone. No Pidge, no Matt. Lance feels a little guilty about how relieved that makes him, but Hunk had been his friend first. Lance misses him.

“What’s crackin’?” he asks, tilting his head back to look up at Hunk, hanging from a complicated harness and operating several mysterious floating tools. “Is that screwdriver floating because of magic or science?”

Hunk laughs, turning back to what he was doing. “Just regular science this time,” he says. “They’ve got very, very minor hover technology built in, which I thought was kind of ridiculous at first. Like, what the hell, Altea? Show off, much? But I guess they ended up being pretty useful.”

Lance hums in agreement, leaning against Yellow and crossing one foot over the other. He feels a little out of sorts. For once, he has nothing really interesting to say. It’s like he’s been locked in a room for days, rather than Lotor.

“So what’s been going on around here anyway?” is what he settles on. “It’s like I’m in a completely different building, literally. I have no contact with the outside world. Give me all the gossip, Hunk. Spill the tea.”

Hunk hums, doing something in the lion that makes a distressing clunking sound. Lance hears a very quiet, but heated “ _Fuck_.”

“Well,” Hunk says. “Everything’s pretty much the same. Pidge finished that program she was working on, the one using the information Lotor gave us about Zarkon’s sentries. Matt helped.” He pushes back, the rope of his harness whistling as he slides away from the lion. “Speaking of Lotor,” he says, “how _is_ that, anyway? What do you do down there all day? What’s his deal? Is it scary?”

“Uhhh,” Lance says, looking down and feeling weirdly reluctant to talk about it. Lotor still doesn’t do much, but he’s taken to staring at Lance more, like he’s trying to dissect Lance with his eyes. “It’s really nothing, man,” Lance says, nervously chuckling. “The dude just sleeps, mostly. Or maybe he’s meditating? He doesn’t really acknowledge that I’m there.”

“Huh,” Hunk says, crossing his arms and looking thoughtful. “That’s kind of weird. Like, you’d think he would get bored. Or do you think Galra have some kind of...I don’t know...state of hibernation?”

“I don’t know, dude,” Lance says, shrugging. He doesn’t know if they do, but maybe it would make sense if that's what Lotor was doing. The dude sleeps like, twenty hours a day. Lance wonders if Keith could hibernate, if he wanted to. He probably needs to. He never gets enough sleep. “It’s pretty boring, to be honest.”

“I can imagine,” Hunk says. Then, he says, “Wait, no I can’t. I’d probably be terrified. It’s so _dark_ down there, and you’re literally hanging out with an evil prince every hour of every day.”

Lance shrugs. “I don’t know,” Lance says again. “I guess I got used to him. He’s just a guy.”

Hunk hums thoughtfully, making awkward swimming motions to push back towards his lion. “Shiro says it's basically impossible to get anything out of him when they ask for his help against the Empire. Like, he says it’s because Haggar never trusted him with anything, but no one is buying it. Shiro and Allura are always in such pissy moods after those meetings, man. You’re lucky you get to chill in the lower decks all day.”

“Yeah, I guess,” Lance says. He looks around, though he knows they're alone. It’s rare he gets Hunk alone like this, and he’ll be going back to guard duty soon. He wonders if this is Hunk hinting that maybe he’s also noticed something off about Shiro. He feels like he’s going crazy. The lights in the hangar are hurting his eyes. “Hey, Hunk,” he says. “Do you think...Have you noticed...Is there something wrong with Shiro?”

Hunk reels back. “Uh, no? Like what?” he asks. “Like, physically? Or mentally? Because, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, dude, but the Galra kind of fucked him up.”

Lance shakes his head, instantly regretting saying anything. “No, yeah, of course,” he says quickly. “No, it’s just. It’s stupid. Forget I said anything.”

“No,” Hunk says, “what are you talking about? Does this have to do with Lotor?” He lowers his voice. “Has Lotor been...telling you stuff?”

“ _No_ ,” Lance says, feeling a bit annoyed. “He doesn’t say anything. This has nothing to do with Lotor. I’ve just noticed he’s been acting like…”

“Like what?”

“Like...I don’t know! _Weird!_ ”

“Weird how?”

“I don’t know, he seems like...he doesn’t really…”

They’re interrupted by the doors to the hangar sliding open and Pidge walking in. Hunk and Lance look at each other, shutting up. Pidge may not act like it, but they know she adores Shiro. There’s no way she would tolerate any kind of word against him.

“Hey Hunk,” she says, not looking up from her tablet. “Have you seen my—oh, hey Lance.”

“Hey,” Lance says weakly. Hunk is sending him looks, like _“This conversation isn’t over.”_ But Lance feels like all the courage he’d mustered to talk to Hunk flew out when Pidge opened the hangar doors. “I better get back to Lotor,” Lance says. “A babysitter’s job is never done, and all that.”

Pidge nods, already focused on rummaging through Hunk’s tools for whatever she’s looking for. Hunk looks worried, but he just says, “Pick up some food on your way down. You haven’t had anything but food goo for the last few days. There’s still leftovers from lunch in the kitchen.”

Lance nods and thanks him, leaving as quickly as he can without looking suspicious. He feels stupid. What was he going to say to Hunk? That Shiro was being _mean_ to him, which means he’s obviously become evil? Shiro’s had a shorter temper lately, so obviously he’s working for the Galra, the empire that did so many awful things to him. It’s idiotic.

But at the same time, Lance can’t shake his uneasiness, the ache in his stomach that’s telling him something is _wrong_ and that it has to do with Shiro, and it’s getting worse. What Lance doesn't understand is how he's the only one who can see it.

Lance doesn’t stop by the kitchens. He makes it as far as the red lion’s hangar, following the pull at his sternum, the growl in his head. He spends the rest of his break there, basking in the waves of heat coming from his lion. For a moment, he’s at ease.

***

Lance is there when Lotor is brought back to his cell, standing at attention up against the wall, gun in hand. Shiro acts as Lotor’s personal escort, guiding him stoically through the halls. They must have removed Lotor’s cuffs at some point, because they’re on backwards now, his wrists crossed at the small of his back. Lance tenses as they approach.

Shiro has a grip on Lotor’s upper arm that looks painful, but Lotor shows no indication of feeling anything. Lance says nothing as Shiro marches him into the cell, the forcefield temporarily disabled. He does nothing as Shiro kicks at the back of Lotor’s leg, sending him to his knees. He hears nothing as Shiro leans forward, fist gripping hard at Lotor’s hair, and hisses in his pointed ear.

Lance keeps his gaze level and his back straight, just as they taught him back at the Garrison. Shiro drops Lotor back to his knees and leaves the cell, forcefield rising as he makes his exit. He narrows his eyes as he passes Lance, but Lance isn’t looking at him. He’s looking straight ahead, grip tight on his gun. Shiro doesn’t remove Lotor’s cuffs, and Lance doesn’t know how to deactivate them.

Shiro leaves, wordless, and Lance wills himself to relax, to loosen his hands and relieve the cramp in his fingers. He thinks, if he just keeps looking straight at the wall across from him, he can tell himself he didn’t see anything.

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Lotor stand, awkward with his hands behind his back. Lance can’t look straight at him.

“Some leader,” Lotor says casually, back still to Lance. “If this is how the paladins of Voltron treat their captives, I cannot imagine why I thought leaving my father’s empire was a good idea.”

Lance doesn’t look at him. He has an urge to defend Shiro’s leadership, but the urge is gone in an instant. Lotor doesn’t know what he’s talking about. He’s evil and untrustworthy. There’s a reason Lance is guarding him, and it has nothing to do with Lotor’s record of being a good guy.

The silence is broken by a loud _clang_ , and Lance looks over to see the handcuffs clatter to the floor. Lotor hums, rolling his shoulders. His arms crack and jerk, twisting and turning unnaturally at the joints. He turns to the side, examining his freed hands.

“Hm, small mercies,” he says. “Maybe the black paladin isn’t so bad after all.”

***

He knows the others find it surprising, how quickly he and Red had taken to each other. Lance doesn’t. It all had been rather...quick.

And yeah, it had fucking _sucked_ to have the blue lion reject him like she had. It was hard to take it all in—the battle, his friends in danger, the cool blue particle barrier, separating him from what he had thought was his destiny.

Because it had _meant_ something, being the blue paladin. It was something that was his, and his alone. Blue wasn’t something that was passed down, like his old army green jacket, a hand-me-down from his older brother. She wasn’t something pressed upon him, like a lifetime of expectation as the youngest in a family of extraordinary people. Being her pilot wasn’t a position in fighter class, open to him by convenience, rather than merit. Blue had seen him that day, in a group of exceptional people, and had decided Lance was the one she wanted.

The position of blue paladin had fit Lance like a glove. He was the right leg of Voltron, steady and supportive. Sure, he’d fucked up a couple times, but Blue was always there, ready to catch him. She’d wrap her protective and loving aura around him. She had encouraged him. When he thinks about his time with her now, he finds it ironic how warm the memory makes him feel.

So he’d taken it pretty hard, understandably, when Blue’s cool presence turned icy, shutting him out. He’d felt so stupid, standing there in his blue armor and attempting to _flatter_ the lion into letting him in. He’d felt like a sham, like nothing fit. He was a square peg in a round hole. He was an unremarkable kid in a hero’s suit of armor.

But then he had heard the roar, felt the heat flow in from the tips of his fingers to the tips of his ears. Something in him shifted, the compass of his being finding a new north.

The others say the red lion initially chose Keith because he’s impulsive and hot-headed. Red is the fastest lion, the smallest and most agile. Flying Red is an art form, it’s reckless. The smallest touch throws her into full throttle. Keith is the same, and he’s an amazing pilot. He gives his all in everything he does. He was willing to put in the work to fly Red efficiently.

Lance loves Keith, is in love with Keith. He knows Keith now, inside and out. Keith is quick, fierce and golden, but Lance doesn’t think that’s what the red lion saw in him.

Lance is off babysitting duty for the day, on account of the Galra fleet attempting to destroy the capital city of the planet Klapta. Under his hands, the red lion feels as though she’s supercharged. Her energy is almost overwhelming, under and over and around him. She vibrates raw power at his fingertips, shaking him apart. She’s so god damn _sensitive_. A twitch of his finger, and she’s zero to a hundred in three seconds flat. Lance doesn't fight her for control, because he would lose. He follows her lead.

Here’s the thing about the red lion. Sure, she can be finicky, but she’s fast and flexible and strong.  Lance trusts her in the same way he trusts her former paladin, and she trusts him.

What the others don’t think about, what they don’t know, is that above all the other traits, what Keith and the red lion have in common is good instinct. Lance knows this because he too shares this trait. He knows when to roll with the punches, knows that when one lion won’t have him, he’ll just have to fly the next one. When life gives him lemons, and all that.

Lance takes a deep breath. The red lion runs so hot, all the time. The red light of her cockpit kind of hurts his eyes, but he likes the way his blue armor looks in it, matte and vaguely purple. At certain times, when he’s feeling particularly dramatic, he thinks it’s a good representation of his place as a paladin, red and blue smashed together. Most of the time though, the dark color just reminds him of Keith.

Lance weaves and twists around and through the Galra fighters, streaming fire and light. He’s untouchable. He can feel the others around him, lighting up the dark sky of Klapta. Flying the red lion is an art form, and Lance likes to think he’s starting to get the hang of it. He likes it, even, and he can tell Red does too.

He feels a purr build in his head and reflect in the ship around him. There’s a flash of warning, and he dodges another ship’s blasts without even looking.

Okay, so Lance isn’t the best at what he does. He may not be a prodigy or a genius or a hero. He may not be naturally talented, and maybe it took him a while to get the hang of Red’s controls, but he has good instinct. Lance goes where he’s needed. He’s solid and dependable, steady and supportive. He grows to fit.

The others don’t see it, they don’t get it, but they don’t have to. The blue lion had chosen Lance, picked him from a lineup, but the red lion had _taken_ him. That means something.

Together as Voltron, the paladins carve their way through the Galra fleet until there’s only a single cruiser, and then they destroy that. In the bright flash of exploding ships, Lance’s triumphant cheer is echoed by a roar.

***

A little over a week in, and Lance decides _fuck it_ and brings his phone to babysitting duty.

Lotor still doesn't do much but sleep and stare creepily at Lance. He hasn’t so much as shifted towards the electric field locking him in the room, and Lance knows that’s no excuse to get lazy, but he’s _bored._

_Text Log — Stardate 01182348:1334_

**Lance:** heyyyy babe

 **Lance:** whats up how are u?? still all purple and stuff??

 **Keith:** In more ways than one. Galra really don’t go easy in the training room.

 **Keith:** Aren’t you supposed to be babysitting?

Lance looks up from his phone, rolling his eyes when he sees Lotor still and quiet.

 **Lance:** what do u mean?? are u saying the other members are beating u up???? ill kill them

 **Lance:** let me at em >:(

 **Lance:** and yeah im w prince loser rn

 **Lance:** hes asleep like ALWAYS. hunk thinks maybe hes in like a state of hibernation or something since it isnt right for someone to sleep so much

 **Lance:** is that something galra do?? hibernate?? keith can u hibernate??

 **Keith:** Lance, look into my eyes and tell me if they are the eyes of a man who gets any kind of sleep at all.

 **Keith:** Let alone HIBERNATION.

After a moment, Lance’s phone vibrates as it receives a picture message. It’s a kind of messy selfie, taken at a weird angle. Keith _does_ look tired. The bags under his eyes look even darker in the dim light.

He’s still wearing his uniform, of course, but his hood is down and his extra long, choppy hair is visible. It sticks up all over the place, like he’s been electrocuted. On his last visit, Keith had confessed that he’d been using his knife to cut the hair away from his face. Lance had been predictably horrified, and had made him promise to wait for his visits to the castle, so Lance could do it for him. _“With_ real _scissors, and by someone with an actual sense of style._ ” It’s sweet to see that Keith’s been honoring that promise.

Lance can’t help but smile down at the picture, biting his lip against it. Tired or not, it’s just so damn nice to see Keith’s face. Lance misses him _so fucking much_. In the beginning, they’d negotiated two weekends a month for Keith to visit, but of course it’s not that simple. War doesn’t stop so Lance can see his boyfriend. In the past few months, Lance has only seen Keith twice. There’s always a new mission, or distress call, or Keith is just too far to justify flying to the castle’s location.

It sucks, but most of all it’s worrying. Lance frets every day, wondering if Keith’s returning to his old ways, overworking and holding little value for his own well being. Lance _wants_ to trust Keith’s assertions that he’s taking care of himself, but how can Lance know for sure when they never see each other?

 **Lance:** !!!!!!  <3 <3 <3 8D

 **Lance:** babe u cant just spring that on me. i think im having heart palpitations

 **Lance:** from ur hot bod

 **Lance:** u do look tired tho :( are u sure ur getting a good amount of rest? is kolivan letting u? i thought he was getting better at understanding that humans need more rest

 **Keith:** He is. I’m fine, don’t worry.

 **Keith:** There’s just so much to do, we’re all running ourselves ragged here. I’m not the only one who’s tired.

 **Keith:** I’m sure you guys are pretty much the same, Zarkon has been on the warpath. Things are pretty busy.

Lance’s mouth twists as he glares up at Lotor. Lance doesn’t think he’s ever been _less_ busy in his life, sitting in this dark hallway playing watchdog.

Lotor doesn’t move.

 **Lance:** yeah its really busy here!! everyones got their own thing going on.

 **Lance:** still tho, i wish we were able to take some time off to see each other

 **Lance:** imagine if u COULD hibernate! we could hibernate together

 **Lance:** just pack a bunch of snacks and blankets and pillows and hunker down in my room for the winter

 **Keith:** I’m not gonna lie...that sounds amazing.

 **Keith:** I mean, even if I could, it’s not like humans could hibernate.

 **Keith:** At some point you would get bored.

 **Lance:** i would never!! u are massively underestimating my dedication to The Nap Life™

 **Lance:** give me u and a blanket and some snacks and i have all i need

 **Lance:** everything i love in one convenient hibernation package

 **Lance:** hey u think the next time u visit we can set aside some time to just...take a nap?

 **Keith:** I honestly don’t think there’s anything I’d like more.

They text through the rest of Lance’s watch, on and off as Keith goes about his business with the Blade. There’s a few times where Lance has to stifle his laughter in his fist as Keith describes whatever monstrosity the chefs at the Blade of Marmora mess hall have constructed that day. He keeps scrolling up to look at the selfie Keith had sent him, stopping a sigh from building in his throat and feeling like a kid in middle school.

Eventually, Lance’s shift ends, and he’s waiting for someone to relieve him. He’s trying to find a place in his armor to hide his phone when he hears a voice.

“Who were you talking to?”

Lance’s head whips around, towards the cell. Lotor’s eyes are open, and he looks politely curious. Lance swallows.

“What?” he says, intelligently.

“I asked who you were talking to,” Lotor repeats. “On your communicator.” He tilts his head, shimmery hair falling over one shoulder.

Lance scowls. “No one. It’s none of your business.” For some reason, the thought of Lotor learning about Keith, even _knowing_ about Keith, sits in his stomach uneasily.

Lotor shrugs, sitting back and closing his eyes once more. Lance feels a shiver roll down his spine, and shakes it off. He’s a paladin of Voltron, and this guy is completely helpless. It’s nothing.

Eventually, someone from the rebellion comes to take over, and Lance is free. It’s too late to see any of the others, so he goes straight to his room. He doesn’t bother with the lights, pulling off his armor and collapsing onto his bed in only his boxers.

He’s exhausted, but something about his interaction with Lotor has left him jittery and anxious. Why was Lotor attempting to talk to him after staying quiet for so long? Was he trying to accomplish something? Did he think that Lance was weak or something? That if Lotor asked about his boyfriend, Lance would sing like a bird?

Lance buries himself under the covers, curling up and trying to relax. He wants to talk to Keith, but Keith has already gone to bed, and Lance would feel awful for depriving him of the rest he so rarely gets.

He goes over the interaction in his mind. This wasn’t like the first time Lance heard him speak, where it seemed as though Lotor was talking to himself more than anyone else. Was there anything Lance did wrong? Did he give anything away? He remembers Shiro telling him not to engage, but then again that just might have been Shiro being annoyed with him.

He turns over, facing the wall, and decides there’s nothing really to be done. He hadn’t told Lotor anything. He had stopped any conversation before it started. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

Lance closes his eyes, pulling a pillow to his chest. He imagines having Keith there, warm and sleepy. He remembers their earlier conversation about locking up with blankets and sleeping like bears for months on end. He curls in further around the pillow, and eventually falls asleep.

***

A few days later, Lotor tries talking to Lance again.

Lance is sitting against the wall across from Lotor’s cell, fucking around and playing games on his phone. Keith is on a mission, so Lance has no one to talk to.

“So, are you the red paladin or the blue paladin?”

Lance looks up. Lotor is sitting cross-legged at the end of the cot closest to Lance. He’s got his chin resting on one hand, hunched forward in a way that looks distinctly un-princely.

“Sorry?” Lance says, because he’s never been good at not talking. Sorry, Shiro.

Lotor huffs. “Are you the red paladin, or the blue paladin?” he asks, slowly, like Lance is an idiot. “You wear the blue armor, but you fly the red lion.”

Lance blinks, locking his phone and dropping it onto his lap. “I’m the blue paladin,” he says.

“But the princess flies the blue lion.”

“Is this like, a shitty way to try and get intel out of me?”

Lotor sits back, spreading his arms out. “Does it look like I’m going anywhere?”

“You could be going for the long con.”

Lotor shrugs, dropping his arms. “Maybe,” he says. “But I know for a fact that you’re bored, considering how many times you’ve sighed in the varga you’ve been here, and I’ve been considering walking into the electric forcefield to find even a modicum of entertainment.”

Lance doesn’t say anything, and Lotor sighs. “It was a simple question,” he says.

“And I answered it,” Lance says. “I’m the blue paladin.”

“That’s dreadfully confusing.”

Lance shrugs. “It is what it is.”

“Have you considered possibly...changing your armor?”

“No.”

“Come now,” Lotor says. “I’m sure the former red paladin is not using it.”

“ _No_ ,” Lance says. “I like my armor. I know you Galra are super into color coordinating and like, I _get it,_ but I’ll never put on the red armor.”

Lotor hums, looking at Lance with a speculative look on his face. “Interesting,” he says. He moves back to his usual spot then, looking at Lance for a moment longer before returning to his meditation.

Lance watches him with disbelief before going back to his phone games.

What a weird guy.

***

Lance remembers the first time he saw Takashi Shirogane.

It hadn’t been in person. Fifteen year old Lance had taken to studying for the Garrison entrance exams at the local library. His family had a shared computer, ready and available for any of them to do homework or fuck around on social media, but Lance was having a hard time concentrating.

Lance is the youngest, and had been the only one living at home, but at the time his older brother and sister were at the house often enough that they might as well have been living there. Marcos dropped his kids off nearly every day for their mom to babysit while him and his wife worked, and Angie was in and out at all hours of the day, trailing overflowing binders and fabric swatches and thick, cream stationary in the wake of her frantic wedding planning. Lance loved his siblings, but his house wasn’t exactly an environment conducive to studying.

So every day after school, he’d lug all of his practice exam books and calculators and number 2 pencils to the library. He’d made a spot for himself in a slightly dingy computer cubicle, far into the maze of shelves. It was a good setup, and his family understood why he went. Lance had been quietly proud of himself for being so studious.

The first time Lance had ever seen Shiro, it was on one of the library’s ancient computer screens. Lance had been taking a break from studying for the Garrison by doing his next best thing: googling things about the Garrison.

At that point in time, the military school had still felt like a pipe dream. Going to a school like that, becoming a pilot, it all seemed like something that happened to other richer, more talented kids. At fifteen, Lance had been tall but skinny. He had had good grades, but not great ones. Shouldering his heavy backpack through town and spending every afternoon in the library, Lance had wondered more than once if the other people in town—his family included—were thinking that he was wasting his time.

That day, he was reading an article about remarkable Garrison alumni. Lance’s eyes had gotten progressively wider and brighter, starry-eyed as he read about world famous scientists, groundbreaking inventors, and war heroes. Shiro had been the last on the list, most recently graduated, but no less extraordinary. He had been the youngest to ever graduate, the best pilot they’d ever seen. They were naming a flight maneuver after him, and he was already set to take off on the Kerberos Mission in a year’s time.

Lance had absorbed the information like a sponge, imagining what it might be like to fly to space at tender age of 23. There had been a link to a video in the article, and Lance had clicked it with fervent energy of a boy possessed.

The video had been of the press conference announcing the team that would be going on the Kerberos Mission. It was mostly Commander Holt speaking, but Lance’s eyes were drawn to Shiro. He was cute, Lance shyly noted. Maybe more than a little cute. But it wasn’t until Shiro leaned forward to talk that Lance became hooked.

The question had been directed towards both Matt Holt and Shiro, but after a quick glance between them Shiro agreed to take it on. It was a question about their youth, and whether or not they would come to regret spending so much of their twenties on a research trip, rather than on Earth with friends and family.

“This is what I want to be doing,” Shiro had said. “This has always been what I want to do, what I’ve worked so hard for. I want to see the stars, and discover new things. Matt here is a bit more science-minded than I am, but I know we have this in common.” He winked over at Matt, who gave him a cheeky grin. Lance’s nose was basically touching the screen, committing everything Shiro said to memory.

“Sure, I’m going to miss my friends and my little brother, just like I know the Holts will miss Mrs. Holt and Katie,” Shiro continued. “Most guys my age are dating and going out with friends, but I know in my heart that this is what I was meant to do. This feels right, to me, and if there’s anything I’ve learned in my life and at the Garrison, it’s that you should do what feels right, even if it’s not necessarily the easiest option.”

After that, Matt had chimed in with some quip about the destruction of traditional family values, but Lance wasn’t listening anymore. He replayed Shiro’s quote over and over, jotted it down in his notes. Shiro had been so well-spoken, so brave. Lance wanted to be just like him.

Do what feels right, even if that’s not necessarily the easiest option. Going to the Garrison, learning to fly, had felt right, even if it took Lance away from his family. Making friends with Hunk and Pidge, that had felt right. Chasing after a fallen spaceship had felt right. Saving Shiro had felt right. Stepping into the Blue Lion had been the easiest choice Lance had ever made.

He’s remembering this as Team Voltron, answering a distress call from rebel moonbase, gets their asses handed to them by one of Zarkon’s new, reinforced fleets. The rebel moonbase had been destroyed. Lance had pleaded, begged, snapped at Shiro that they needed to form Voltron. Shiro hadn’t listened, insisting that they would be more efficient if they remained separate, sending Allura and Hunk down to the base to assist in evacuations, while he, Pidge, and Lance held the Galra off.

Hunk and Allura had still been on base when the Galra cruiser’s ion cannon rained fire onto it.  Hunk had been in his lion with however many people that could fit, Allura hadn’t.

She had pleaded, begged, snapped at Lance not to go in the pod. Bleeding from her mouth and chest and right leg, she had cried. The last time she had gone in a pod, she had woken up ten thousand years later. The last time she went in with a family and came out without one. Lance carried her, kicking and screaming, delirious with pain, to the med bay, Pidge and Hunk following anxiously. Shiro went to the bridge to speak to the rebel leaders about the assets that had been lost and what the team should do about it.

Coran had already prepared a pod by the time they got there, and with shaking hands he had pulled Allura from Lance’s arms, smoothing her hair away from her face. He hummed Altean lullabies as he removed the hard plates of her armor, soothing her crying enough for her to finally pass out. Soon, she was in the pod and expected to make a full recovery. But Lance couldn’t get the image of Coran’s hard blinking eyes and the waver in his voice out of his head.

Now, looking up at Allura, peaceful and healing, Lance wonders when all of this, fighting the Galra, forming alliances, being a paladin, stopped feeling right.

***

_Text Log — Stardate 01252348:2345_

**Lance:** hey keith?

 **Lance:** u there?

 **Lance:** guess not. thought i should let u know allura was hurt pretty bad today

 **Lance:** coran says she’ll be okay but it was pretty scary for a minute there

 **Lance:** anyway im gonna go to bed. love you. stay safe

 **Lance:** <3

***

“Is she alive?”

Lance looks up from his phone to the cell. “Who?” he asks warily, though he already knows.

“The princess.”

“She’s fine.”

“That’s not what I heard.” At Lance’s hard look, Lotor shrugs. “The other guards are a lot...louder than you are. They talk to each other,” he says, wrinkling his nose in displeasure.

Lance doesn’t say anything for a moment. “What’s it to you?” he asks.

“What is what, exactly?”

“What’s it to you whether or not the princess is alive?” He doesn’t call her Allura. He wants Lotor to know her worth, to see what a royal who inspires loyalty is like. “Why do you care?”

“Well,” Lotor says, and the word rolls off of his tongue smoothly, rich in the near silence of his prison. “Far be it for me to disregard the wellbeing of my most... _gracious_ hostess.” He raises a hand in a gesture to his surroundings, as though he’s sitting in the fancy parlour, rather than a prison cell.

Lance rolls his eyes. “She’s not dead,” he says.

“But she isn’t well, either, I take it?”

It’s her third day in the healing pod. “She’s healing,” Lance says. “And that’s all you need to know.”

Lotor hums, tapping at his chin thoughtfully. “It was the black paladin’s fault, wasn’t it? That she was injured.”

Lance tenses, jaw clenching. “You better watch what you’re saying, Lotor,” he says.

Lotor shrugs again, long hair swishing with the movement. Lance grits his teeth, but he can’t keep the question inside.

“What makes you say that?” Lance asks. “You’re talking about a paladin of Voltron. The head of Voltron, no less. What gives you the right to question him when you know nothing?”

“Let’s call it...an educated guess,” Lotor says, and he looks vaguely smug. He slides his eyes over to Lance, half-lidded. “I think you would benefit from opening your eyes a bit to his _true_ nature. It does you no good to follow blindly.”

Lance’s shoulders are tense to the point of pain. “You have no idea what you’re talking about,” he says.

Lotor shrugs again. Neither of them say anything for the rest of Lance’s shift.

***

There are days where everything is normal. These are the good days.

On these days, Shiro is almost like his old self. After a successful mission, he’ll ruffle Pidge’s hair and pat them all on the back. Or a miracle will happen, and they all will be able to eat dinner together, and he’ll join Hunk, Lance, and Pidge as they try to teach Coran the macarena.

His face will look softer, his expression more open. He’ll smile easier. He’ll show more affection. He’ll act a little sillier, a little more his actual age. He’ll glow golden, like he did in the beginning, every inch the hero they all thought he was.

He’ll clap a hand on Lance’s shoulder and say, “Nice work, Sharpshooter,” and Lance will be fifteen again, with stars in his eyes.

Those are the good days.

***

Here are the things Lance knows, in the order of how they happened.

First, Shiro had been on the Kerberos mission, the furthest any human had been in the universe. Then, he had been taken.

He had fought in the Galra gladiator arenas, to save Matt. At some point in that time, he had lost his arm. They gave him a new one.

The Blade of Marmora member Ulaz gave Shiro the means to escape. Shiro timed the sentry patrols and was able to get into a ship and head towards Earth.

He crash landed, and had been saved from the Garrison by a bunch of kids. Lance had been a part of that group.

Shiro became the black paladin, their leader. He was kind of dorky sometimes, but well-respected. He maybe thought Lance was a bit annoying, but never beyond the fond irritation Lance had become used to over the years from everyone.

After their attempt to take out Zarkon once and for all, Shiro had disappeared. To this day, none of them know how this had happened.

Shiro had been missing for three months. From what Keith has told him, Shiro had been captured by the Galra again. Some shenanigans happened, and he managed to hijack a Galra fighter. He tried to find the castleship and return to the team. He was searching so long he nearly died of starvation.

After that, there was something about him that seemed...off. He came back different.  The guy had been taken by the Galra _twice_ , which obviously takes a toll. They all were happy to have him back, of course, but Lance started noticing things.  It’s not that he was suspicious from the get-go, but these sort of things tend to build up.

Here’s what Lance _doesn’t_ know.

He doesn’t know what happened to Shiro the first time he was taken by the Galra. No one does. Even Shiro’s memory is spotty when it comes to that time.

He doesn’t know what happened to Shiro the _second_ time he was taken by the Galra, either. And again, neither does Shiro. If he does, he’s kept it quiet. Keith won’t tell Lance anything.

So there’s not much Lance doesn’t know, but it feels important. A year of torture and violence completely blacked out from someone’s memory is understandable, but it happening twice is a little far fetched. The fact that the Galra had captured Shiro _again_ , and he had managed to escape _again_ , seems even more unbelievable. Shiro’s strong and brave and resourceful, but all alone in enemy territory? It just seems a bit too easy.

Shiro gets headaches now, bad ones. In the beginning, when he’d bounced back from being a scruffy shut-in, they’d only happened every few days and could have easily been attributed to stress or fatigue. Now, they’re perpetual. It’s normal to find Shiro with his fingers pressed to the bridge of his nose, eyes shut tight. They make him irritable and a little mean. Pretty much everyone knows and avoids him when the headaches are really bad.

And yeah, Lance gets it. He’s had migraines before, bad enough that even the dimmest light brings tears to his eyes and the slightest head movement churns his stomach. The last thing he would want to do with one of those is deal with a bunch of teenagers and an intergalactic war.

But Shiro refuses to be treated.

Coran has offered countless times. Bioscans, short bouts in the healing pod, pills, injections, a strange little rodent that latches onto the nape of your neck and sucks the pain away. Shiro refuses.

For a while, Lance had thought it was a dumb macho thing, like Shiro was trying to tough it out. Lance has met a ton of guys who’d been that way, but something told Lance that it wasn’t the case with Shiro. Shiro had always stressed the importance of taking care of yourself before he was taken. He had monitored Keith’s time on the training deck, and went out of his way to make sure Pidge maintained a good sleeping schedule.

“You can’t take care of the universe if you don’t take care of yourself first,” he would say, doling out fond pats on shoulders and hair ruffles. “It does you no good to suffer.”

And Lance hates that he thinks of Shiro this way, of Before and After. Shiro does little of that now. He’s always on the bridge with Allura and Coran. Last week, Pidge had stayed up two days straight working on a program, and Shiro’s response had been to ask the status of a different one.

But that’s beside the point, Shiro won’t treat his headaches.

Lance has a wild imagination. Hunk has joked before that one of Lance’s talents is “jumping to conclusions.” He’s cooked up so many conspiracies over this new habit of Shiro’s that he might as well hang up the towel and put on a tin foil hat (maybe there’s some kind of foil in Hunk and Pidge’s scrap pile).

Shiro won’t let Coran bioscan him because he has terminal brain cancer, and doesn’t want the others to worry. He’s being mind controlled by the Galra. Haggar implanted a chip in Shiro’s brain that's set to explode if ever exposed to x-rays. He’s being mind controlled by the Galra. The Galra replaced his brain with a high-tech Galra version. He’s being mind controlled by the Galra. This isn’t actually Shiro, but an extremely technologically advanced android copy of him. _Shiro_ had a brain worm, this time. Everything about Shiro is completely fine, it’s _Lance_ who’s the problem. He’s being mind controlled by the Galra, he’s being mind controlled by the Galra, he’s being mind controlled by the Galra.

It sounds so stupid to think of Shiro that way, but Lance can’t think of anything else. How could Shiro have escaped a second time if they hadn’t released him intentionally? What did they do to Shiro in the three months he was missing? When Team Voltron had found him, he had been malnourished, but when he had _escaped_ he’d been perfectly healthy. How the hell had his hair grown that long, that fast? Why won’t he talk about his time on that Galra ship, and why is no one else suspicious about this?

Lance isn’t stupid, though. He knows why they aren’t talking about it.  Everyone is just...happy Shiro’s back. He’s been through a lot, he’s family, the team needs a leader. Lance had thought that he and Keith had been doing an alright job at leading in Shiro’s absence, but the entire time Keith had been spiralling. Without Shiro, it was as though there was no ground beneath Keith’s feet. There was only a matter of time before Keith would have self-destructed. There was nothing Lance or anyone could do about that.

Lance knows how they feel, and he wishes it all could go back to the way it used to be, but as the weeks pass and things get worse he still can’t help but wonder why no one else sees the change in Shiro.

Shiro’s smiles drop the moment no one is watching, he makes orders that inevitably get one or all of them hurt, he looks at Lance during team meetings with eyes that are hard and cold, why can’t anyone else see it?

Lance is starting to feel like he’s going crazy, contemplating mind control and hiding his thoughts from his friends. He thinks of Hunk’s skeptical look the one time he was brave enough to say something, saying _“I don’t know if you’ve noticed, dude, but the Galra kind of fucked him up.”_

Lance thinks maybe that’s it, Shiro’s just been through so much it’s impossible to be kind all of the time. No one else is having any trouble, so maybe Lance is being sensitive. Shiro’s not like Keith, he doesn’t need someone like Lance hanging around to get shit done. Lance isn’t like Keith either, Shiro wants nothing to do with him.

Lance goes back and forth. Something’s wrong, nothing’s wrong. Shiro’s too different, but if he is, it’s understandable. Lance is overreacting, everyone else isn’t paying enough attention.

What the _fuck_ had Lotor meant when he said to open his eyes to Shiro’s true nature?

If only Lance could _talk_ to someone, Hunk, Pidge, anyone. But he’s spending all of his time in the lower decks with Lotor, and when he isn’t, Shiro’s there, leading Voltron just like always. He can’t talk to Keith about this, because Keith worships the ground Shiro walks on. Lance isn’t sure Keith’s love for him runs as deep as his love for Shiro, and it’s an ugly feeling.

Lance wants to claw at his face, pull at his hair. Is he being paranoid? Is he being lenient? Should he do something? But what should he do? Pidge had been the last in the healing pod due to one of Shiro’s orders, scrapes and cuts all across her young face, burns all over her small body. Matt had cried when he saw her in the pod, his eyes wide and wet, his lip quivering.

Lance has never felt more alone.

***

_Text Log — Stardate 02042348:2024_

**Lance:** hey keith, ur always honest with me, right?

 **Lance:** or like, u always try to be

 **Lance:** right?

 **Lance:** even if what ur telling me is going to hurt me, ur honest

 **Keith:** Of course I am. Why wouldn’t I be?

 **Keith:** Sometimes I’m bad at, like, telling you things. But that’s usually about myself and I’m working on it.

 **Keith:** Did something happen? What brought this on?

 **Lance:** it’s nothing. forget i said anything

 **Lance:** im like really tired so im gonna hit the hay.

 **Lance:** thanks for answering me. i love u!!

 **Keith:** Lance…

 **Keith:** Okay, I love you too.

 **Keith:** Just...Don’t ever be afraid to tell me stuff. I’m always here for you.

 **Lance:** noted.  <3

***

Lance had suggested, more than once, that they cancel team training.

It’s not like they necessarily need it. They're out in the field often enough that they’re always on their toes. But Shiro had insisted, and everyone had followed, because that’s how it goes.

Pidge is barely out of the pod and has to take it easy. She’s doing weapons exercises in the corner with Matt, while Shiro, Hunk, and Lance work on sparring. But it looks like her and Matt are mostly just messing around. Allura is on a mission for the coalition.

Lance doesn’t want to spar with Shiro. There had been something in his expression when he suggested it that sent a cold feeling through him.

Shiro spars with Hunk first, and Lance is proud to see Hunk hold up pretty well. He’s getting good at using his strength, at not holding back in fear. It feels like no time at all when they stop, and Shiro calls Lance over.

Lance smiles weakly, offering a half-hearted high five to Hunk as they trade places. Hunk gives him a bright smile, sunny enough that Lance feels a bit more confident.

One look at Shiro’s expression, and any confidence he had is gone. Out of the corner of his eye, Lance sees Hunk walk over to Pidge and Matt’s corner. He hopes Hunk still pays attention. He hopes someone sees.

Once he makes it over, Lance opens his mouth to make a joke, but he reconsiders almost immediately, settling into a fighting stance. They’re sparring without bayards, which is both Hunk and Lance’s biggest weakness. Lance swallows, clenching and unclenching his fists. Shiro charges.

Lance yelps, ducking out of the way of a punch. “So much for a warm-up, huh?” he can’t stop himself from joking. He staggers backwards, dodging and weaving. This has the complete opposite energy to Shiro and Hunk’s fight. Shiro is fast, ruthless. He doesn’t shout pointers or pull back to correct Lance’s stance like he did for Hunk. He just keeps hitting, kicking, elbowing. He doesn’t stop.

Lance is long range. Before, Shiro had always told him to focus on putting space between him and his opponent. “We’re working on your hand to hand,” he had said, “but your goal is always distance. Focus on distance, but learn how to handle yourself until you gain it.”

But that was Before, and now Shiro just _won’t stop_. Lance is quick, but Shiro eventually manages to land a hit, deep in his gut where the armor doesn’t cover. Lance is thinking that that’s a definite design flaw as he drops to his knees, gasping for air. Shiro still doesn’t stop, pulling up one leg for a hard stomp. Lance dodges, still panting, and scrambles pathetically to the side.

“Shiro,” he gasps, “Time out. I need to stop for a sec, I can’t—”

“I know you talk to him,” Shiro says. Lance’s efforts to gain distance had pushed him nearly up against the wall. He crawls backwards on his hands as Shiro advances. There’s a roaring in his ears, something like a wail. He talks the red lion down, but he feels frazzled. “What does he say?”

“What,” Lance takes a few shallow breaths, “What are you _talking_ about?”

Shiro drops to one knee, grabbing at Lance. Lance jerks away, to the side and onto his stomach, ready to push up and back onto his feet. He’s stopped quickly by a hand burying itself in his hair and pulling him back. They hadn’t bothered with helmets. It was _sparring_.

“Shiro,” Lance says, eyes screwing shut as he’s yanked up. An anger that isn’t his burns through him, cutting through the fear. “Shiro, you’re hurting me.”

“He won’t tell us anything,” Shiro says, digging one knee into Lance’s lower back. “Quiet as a mouse. _What_ is he telling you?”

“Who? Lotor?” Lance says. “He doesn’t tell me anything! He just—He just makes fun of me—”

“Are you lying?” Shiro says, and Lance doesn’t recognize his voice. _This isn’t Shiro_ , Lance thinks. _Mind control._

“I’m _not_ ,” Lance pleads. Why hasn’t anyone else noticed? He wants to cry out, but his voice is stuck in his throat, trapped like his body under Shiro’s fists. “I swear, I’m not.”

The next thing he knows, his face is hitting the floor, hard enough to send a flash of white through his vision. He must have cried out, because he can finally hear the other occupants in the room take notice and call his name. The throbbing in his head dulls the panicked feeling he’s getting from Red. He’s not focused on that, though. He’s focused on the voice in his ear, deep and mean and unfamiliar.

“You aren’t lying to me, are you Lance?” Shiro asks. “Because lying would be a betrayal to the cause, to the coalition, and to Voltron. I won’t abide by traitors, Lance. You have no idea what I’m capable of.”

Lance closes his eyes, feeling a tear escape the trap of his eyelids and roll down his aching face. He nods stiffly. “I’m not lying,” he says. “I swear to you, Shiro. He hasn’t told me anything.”

There’s a quiet whine, and Lance for the first time realizes he doesn’t know which hand is the one restraining him. He imagines he can feel the heat of Shiro’s Galra hand, buried in his hair. His breath quickens, hands grasping in front of him for something, anything to get him _away._

 _“Shiro,”_ he pleads, and then he’s dropped hard to the floor.

He crawls away as fast as he can, armor clacking noisily against the ground. He turns, and Matt is there, his electrified staff pressed to Shiro’s neck. Pidge and Hunk stand a few feet away, looking terrified.

“Shiro,” Matt says, voice deeper and more serious than Lance has ever heard him. “Shiro, what the _fuck_ are you doing? Snap out of it.”

For a second, Shiro is looking up at Matt with a look of undisguised hatred, and then it drops.

He looks shocked, then, eyes wide. His mouth drops open as he stares at Matt, unapologetically threatening him, and over at Lance, well out of arm's reach.

“Matt?” he says, shaking his head slightly. He turns and looks at Hunk and Pidge, and then back again. “What happened? I…” He runs a hand through his short tuft of hair. “I lost myself, for a minute. I...I went back.”

He looks over at Lance again, and Lance feels frozen under his gaze. “I was back in the arenas,” he says. “Lance, Lance, oh god—”

He drops his face in his hands, and that's enough for Pidge to surge forward, dropping to her knees and grabbing for his hands to pull them from his face. Matt drops to one knee, staff pressed to the ground. They're speaking softly, soothingly, as Shiro's shoulders hunch further.

Hunk remains still for a moment before jogging over to Lance, still sprawled on the ground. Lance blinks rapidly, trying to dispel the tears that are steadily falling. He’s thinking calming thoughts at Red, who isn’t buying it. His left eye is harder to blink, the skin on that side of his face feels taught. It’s getting more painful by the second.

“Lance,” Hunk says, once he’s at Lance’s side. He’s on his knees, bending down to help Lance sit up fully, his arm warm and strong at Lance’s back. “Lance, are you okay, buddy?”

 _Of course not,_ Lance thinks, but after a moment he nods. He opens his mouth to talk, but finds it’s too painful to move his jaw. He shakes his head.

“It’s okay,” Hunk says. “You’re okay. Shiro got caught up in a flashback. He snapped out of it. You’re safe now.”

Lance nods, eyes drawn back to where Shiro sits, looking distraught. Lance knows i wasn’t a flashback. They’ve all seen Shiro in the midst of a flashback, when he remembers fighting in the gladiator arenas. That Shiro, the Shiro of the past, had been desperate for survival, frantic and scared. Every time it happened, Lance had always been struck by how _scared_ he was.

This Shiro wasn’t scared. He was methodical, his eyes were clear. He spoke calmly. He’d preyed on Lance’s weakness.

 _This isn’t Shiro_ , Lance thinks. He doesn’t know who this is. _That wasn’t a flashback. He’s lying._

Lance shakes his head, one hand reaching to grasp at Hunk’s armor, pulling his friend closer. _He’s lying_ , he thinks. _He’s lying. It’s a lie. It wasn’t a flashback._

“Hey, hey, buddy,” Hunk says soothingly, gathering Lance in his arms and pulling Lance to his chest. “Listen, it’s okay, it’s over. You’re safe.”

“H—He’s,” Lance forces out, speech slurring under the influence of his rapidly swelling cheek. “He’s l—”

“No, shh, it’s okay,” Hunk soothes. “Don’t talk, it looks like it hurts. Let’s go get you fixed up, okay?”

Lance makes a pained sound, shaking his head, but Hunk just shushes him again. He helps Lance stand, draping one of Lance’s arms awkwardly over his shoulder. Lance wants to tell him, but he’s feeling dizzy. His face hurts. Why can’t Hunk _see?_ Why is it only Lance?

Before they make it out the door, Lance stops to look back. Pidge has coaxed Shiro’s hands from his face and holds them in both of hers. Shiro’s nodding at her, looking calmer. _He’s lying_.

Lance shivers, closing his eyes and ignoring Hunk’s attempts to coax him to the medbay. When he opens them, he catches Matt staring directly at him.

He blinks, unable to make his face do anything to reassure Matt that he’s okay. Matt just...keeps on staring. There’s something unreadable in his expression, and he nods at Lance, grip adjusting on his staff.

Puzzled, Lance nods back, and let’s Hunk lead him out.

***

He doesn’t let Coran put him in a pod. He lets them check for concussion, and give him something for the pain, but he leaves the bruises. He wants this man who isn’t Shiro to see what he’s done.

The next day, standing at his place in front of Lotor’s cell, Lance clenches his fists and says, “Don’t you say a fucking word to me today, Lotor. I swear to god, not one thing.”

Lotor opens his eyes, turning his head and blinking in surprise at the state of Lance’s damaged face. Then he smiles, slow and devious in the low light. His pointed teeth shine yellow in the glow.

The day passes in silence.

***

_Text Log — Stardate 02132348:0241_

**Lance:** keith? are u there?

 **Lance:** i know its late but

 **Lance:** i really need you. please just answer

***

In the dream, Lance is in the castle, but he is hidden.

Everything around him looks different, but not in the way dreams usually do. Colors look duller, shadows darker. It feels like Lance is seeing through the eyes of someone—or something—else.

He’s huddled in a closet, one of the ones present in all of the paladins’ living spaces. It’s dark, he can’t see his feet. He feels the way a little kid does when they take a running leap onto a bed, attempting to ignore the creeping feeling that something will reach out from under it to grab their ankles.

The sliding closet door is cracked open, just enough for a sliver of light to shine in on the opposite side of the small space. Lance takes a shuddering breath, and steps forward towards the opening. He freezes when a shadow passes through it. Someone is outside the closet, moving.

Lance instantly claps a hand over his nose and mouth, muffling his breathing. He’s so afraid, he doesn’t know why he’s so afraid. He’s in the castle, he should be safe.

There’s shuffling outside the closet, and someone muttering. Lance takes a careful step forward, one hand still pressed to his mouth. Once he gets to the crack, he takes a quick peek out into the room beyond, and stiffens.

He’s in Shiro’s room. Shiro is standing a few feet away, his back to Lance. Lance sucks in a quick, shocked breath, digging the nails of his hand into one cheek and pressing hard to muffle it.

Shiro’s standing in the middle of the room, one arm at his side. He’s not wearing the other one, something Lance has never seen before. He hadn’t even known Shiro could take the prosthetic off. Lance’s eyes dart around the room, looking for it. He remembers the sound of the slow whine as it activated above his head, phantom pain bursting across his face at the memory.

Shiro takes a loud, shuddering breath, and Lance jumps.

Shiro’s shoulders heave up and down as he breathes, the muscles in his back rippling under his tight black shirt. They look wrong in the shadowed room, his muscles are moving wrong, like Shiro’s body is shifting underneath his clothes.

Shiro continues to take loud, rattling breathes, like he can’t breathe. Lance should do something, leave the closet and help, but he can’t. He’s too fucking scared.

He watches as Shiro’s shoulders begin to twitch, bouncing and jerking as he chokes. The hand at his side twists and clenches and stiffens. The fingers look broken. His head ducks down, only the nape of his neck visible, lost in the shaking of his shoulders.

Lance can’t look away, he can’t blink. His eyes water, and a few tears fall down his cheek and over his fingers. It feels like his hearts seized up in his chest.

Shiro stills.

His hand goes slack, shoulders slumping. His head is still down, Lance has yet to see his face. Then, Shiro makes a noise.

It’s a deep noise, it sounds as though it’s coming from the deepest part of his chest. A steady drone, loud and resonant in the small space. He is frozen in space, not one thing moves. The pitch starts to waver, its steady hum rising and dropping octaves in a way that almost seems like a pattern.

Lance is too scattered to register it. It’s so _loud_ that it’s almost a physical presence. He can’t help but pull his hand from his mouth to clasp both over his ears. The sound is pressing down on him, compressing him. Lance is shaking. He can’t stop. He stumbles back.

The sound stops, and Shiro’s head whips around. His mouth is open, slack like he has no control of his jaw, and his eyes are yellow. They’re yellow like a Galra’s, yellow like Haggar’s. Faster than anything, he moves toward the closet.

Lance stumbles back again, grasping backwards at the clothes and tripping over some unseen thing on the ground. He falls, and barely registers that the closet shouldn't be this big. He shouldn't be able to do this, scramble back into the black. He watches as the yellow-eyed, slack-mouthed Shiro makes his way to the crack in the closet door before he comes to his senses and turns over to push to his feet.

He’s met by two huge, glowing eyes.

Lance stops moving, and there’s a loud snap, like a log in a fire, finally cracking. The darkness around him starts to glow a violent red, and it gets so hot, and Red is there, standing before him, hunched at eye level.

He blinks away his tears, gaping disbelievingly up at her. “What,” he says, choking on smoke, “What is happening?”

 _You are not alone_ , the red lion says. _You are never alone. Remember this_ . _Do something_.

A hand wraps around his throat from behind.

***

He wakes up sobbing.

He claws at his blankets, throwing them off and pulling his knees up to his chest. His face hurts, but he pushes it down into his legs anyway, breathing heavily. There’s movement on the bed to his right and he screams, pressing back into the wall.

He pushes out with his arms, and sobs when hands grasp at his wrists, pushing them down. He can’t breathe, he’s so sure he’s going to die, and then his vision clears and Keith is there.

“Hey, hey, hey, Lance,” he’s saying, panicked. “Hey, you’re okay. You’re okay. Lance, listen—”

Lance stops fighting, but he can’t quiet his sobs. “Keith?” he asks, weakly.

“Yeah, it’s me. It’s Keith,” Keith says. He still looks worried, but he attempts a smile. “I guess surprising you in the middle of the night didn’t really go all that well.”

“ _Keith_ ,” Lance sighs, shaking loose of the hands still holding his wrists and pressing his hands to Keith’s chest. Keith is wearing one of Lance’s sleep shirts. He must have started changing as soon as he got in, because behind him Lance can see pieces of the Blade of Marmora uniform strewn across the floor. “I...you’re here?”

“Yeah,” Keith says. He runs one hand through Lance’s hair, and rests the other on Lance’s hip. “I’m here. I was going to surprise you by showing up tomorrow, but Hunk called me earlier and told me what happened. I thought coming a day early wouldn’t hurt anyone.”

Lance’s breath hitches, still not quite over his crying fit. He ducks his head, a little ashamed. He doesn’t usually cry this much.

Keith makes a soothing sound, gently coaxing Lance’s face up again. He eyes the bruise spanning the side of Lance’s face critically, turning it from side to side. After a moment, he says, “You know, if it had been anyone but Shiro, and if it hadn’t been an accident, I would have killed whoever did this to you.”

Lance laughs a little. “Ooh, tell me more, Big Man. You’re gonna fight the world for me?”

“I would.”

“Sure.”

“I _would_ ,” Keith says. He sighs. “Can I kiss you now, or what?”

Lance’s smile widens, becoming a little more real, and he nods. Keith ducks forward. pressing his lips to Lance’s gently, so gently like he’s scared anything more would hurt Lance. Lance sighs against him, body going liquid. The longer he’s awake and out of the dream, the more he can accept that Keith is _there_. He’s there, and real, and whole. Lance brings shaking hands up to Keith’s shoulders and breaks the kiss, dropping his head on Keith’s shoulders.

He feels like he’s going to cry again, but for a different reason. His breath hitches, and Keith shushes him, wrapping his arms around Lance’s shoulders and pulling him in tight. “Fuck, I missed you,” Lance says.

“Me too,” Keith says. He rubs hands up and down Lance’s back. “You good?” he asks.

 _Now that you’re here_ , Lance doesn’t say. He just nods the best he can with every part of him pressed to his boyfriend. Keith nods back, turning his head to press a kiss to Lance’s ear. They sit there for a long moment, holding each other, before Lance breaks away.

“Wait, you were going to surprise me _tomorrow?_ ” he asks. “Why tomorrow?”

Keith looks at him skeptically, then his face clears, and he looks delighted. “Oh my god, you don’t know,” he says.

Lance’s brow furrows. “Know what? What’s tomorrow?”

“Oh my _god_ ,” Keith says again. “I can’t believe I’m the only one that remembered. I’m the _best boyfriend.”_

“What are you _talking about_?” Lance asks. Keith doesn’t answer, just reaches back and over to where he’s set his phone on Lance’s shelf.

“Look at the date,” he says smugly, dropping the phone in Lance’s hands. Lance activates the screen, shoving down the giddy feeling he gets when he sees the lockscreen picture is still the selfie he and Keith had taken on Keith’s birthday. He looks at the date.

“I don’t get it,” he says. “It’s February thirteen— _oh my god tomorrow is Valentine’s Day_.”

“Yes!” Keith says, and he actually claps. “And I _remembered it_ , and you _didn’t._ Everyone can shut up now, I _am_ a good boyfriend.”

“Oh my god,” Lance says. “Oh my _god_. It’s Valentine's Day. I love Valentine’s Day!”

“I know!” Keith crows. “I had a surprise and everything!”

Lance laughs. “Okay, yeah, you win this one, _I guess_ ,” he says. Then he gasps, clapping both hands over his mouth. “I didn’t get you _anything_.”

Keith laughs loudly, dropping backwards onto Lance’s bed. “This just keeps getting better!”

“ _Nooooo,”_ Lance says. “This is horrible, I’m horrible.” He drops to the side of Keith, shuffling and adjusting them until he has his head on Keith’s shoulder, one of Keith’s arms wrapped around him. “I’m upset,” Lance says.

Keith shrugs. “I mean, I don’t _need_ anything.”

“That’s not the _point_ , dumb fuck.”

“What would you have gotten me, asshole? Some flowers? Chocolates? A teddy bear?”

Lance pushes at Keith’s other, unoccupied shoulder. “Shut up, I could have gotten you something. Flowers are manageable.”

“Flowers?” Keith says, raising an eyebrow. “For what? My standard, featureless military barracks?”

“Flowers are nice,” Lance says. “You could use some color in your life. Well, color that _isn’t_ purple.”

“Flowers die, Lance.”

“Everyone dies, Keith.” Lance sighs, wrapping his arm around Keith’s waist. Keith shrugs again. “I can’t believe I forgot,” Lance says. “It’s so stupid, things have been…” He trails off. “Things have been.”

Keith hums, tightening the arm around Lance. “Hey,” he says, awkwardly looking down at Lance’s bruised face. “Do you wanna talk about it?”

Lance wants to play stupid for a moment, but gives up before he even starts. He’s too tired. “No,” he says, resignedly. “I’m good right now.”

“It must have been pretty scary,” Keith says. “Hunk said he was about to use his arm on you.”

Lance just nods, willing himself to be heavier, so he can somehow press more into Keith. “Yeah,” Lance says. “I’m okay now, though.”

“You had a nightmare.”

“I’m _fine_ ,” Lance says. “I’m just...I’m tired. Can we sleep now?”

Keith doesn’t say anything for a moment. “Yeah,” he says. “We can sleep. We’re fixing your face in the morning, though.”

“It _is_ the morning,” Lance says. “And what? You don’t like my rugged, bad boy look?”

“I wouldn’t say it’s _bad boy_ ,” Keith says. “You look like you got the shit kicked out of you.”

“Well, yeah,” Lance says.

“Why didn’t you let Coran fix you up in the first place, anyway?” Lance shrugs. “Idiot. We’re healing you as soon as we wake up.”

Lance nods, eyes drooping. The longer he has Keith near him, the safer he feels. He can’t remember why he had been so scared.

Keith adjusts their positions, gently shuffling Lance off of his shoulder, and turning to face him. They’re curled in towards each other, mirror images. Lance smiles at his boyfriend, so fucking relieved.

Keith smiles back, pushing forward to press a kiss to Lance’s lips, and then his forehead. Lance can barely keep his eyes open, barely noticing as Keith reaches down and pulls the blanket over the two of them.

“I love you,” Keith tells him, quiet like a secret. Lance smiles, eyes closed. “Happy Valentine’s Day.”

***

Lance wakes up warm and happy, with a mouthful of Keith’s dark hair and a dead arm. Keith is _out_ , mouth open and drooling on Lance’s shoulder. Lance takes one look at him, closes his eyes, and goes back to sleep.

When they do actually wake up, Keith drags Lance to the med bay and smears a gross smelling ointment over Lance’s bruises. Lance complains the entire time, but soon enough the dull throbbing in his head is gone.

They go everywhere together. Lance is selfish, he wants all of Keith’s time to himself, but he knows Keith wants to see the others just as much.

They pop their heads into Pidge’s lab and let her and Matt ramble about whatever they’re working on for a bit. Lance starts a game he likes to call “cuddle chicken” in his head, where he pretends to be paying attention to whatever Pidge is saying while slowly seeing how many of Keith’s body parts he can wrap around like an octopus.

Keith is horrible at cuddle chicken, because he’s actually trying to pay attention to Pidge’s science nonsense and has no kind of pokerface whatsoever. Once Keith’s caught on to what Lance is doing, Lance has one arm over his shoulder and the other at the crook of Keith’s elbow, while attempting to shove one leg between both of Keith’s.

After that, red as Lance’s lion, Keith starts playing reverse-cuddle chicken, pressing the palm of his hand to Lance’s cheek and doing his best to detangle the two of them, all while doing his best to look interested in what Pidge is saying. There’s a lot of scuffling and suppressed laughter and accidental elbow jabs before Pidge notices and kicks them out “For being gross. This is an academic environment, you chucklefucks!”

Hunk cooks up all of Keith’s favorites for lunch, like he does every time Keith visits, and the entire team wanders in at the smell of food. Keith nearly tears up as he eats, happy to be eating something that actually tastes good for once. Lance laughs and laughs, and Hunk smiles wider than he has in weeks, refilling Keith’s plate more than once. Pidge gets worried that Keith is going to eat all the food and starts squirrelling away food off of Shiro’s plate, despite Allura’s assurance that there’s plenty of food to go around. Lance tries to feed Keith, like a good boyfriend, and is shut down at all angles. It doesn’t deter him, however, and soon him and Keith are running all over the dining hall, Lance with a spork in his hand and Keith with months and months of Marmora Parkour training to help him get away.

After lunch, Lance tries and fails to beg off Lotor duty.

“Well, I don’t see why not,” Allura starts to say, when Lance asks, but Shiro cuts in.

“No, you can’t,” Shiro says, coming up from behind Lance to stand next to Allura. Lance winces, there had been a reason he’d gone with the princess route. He feels Keith stiffen next to him, surprised. “The shifts have already been set, there’s no one else to take your place at the moment.”

“It’s really not that serious of a change,” Allura says, bless her. She turns slightly to face Shiro. “He was injured yesterday, and Keith is only here for a short amount of time—”

“We already scheduled for him to be off tomorrow for Keith’s visit, we can’t change everything just because Keith came a little early,” Shiro says. “And he looks fine to me. It’s not like he’s doing anything strenuous.”

He looks over at Lance, and Lance ducks his head. He can feel Keith looking back and forth between him and Shiro. Allura, still skeptical, says, “I don’t know, Shiro. I really don’t think—”

“It wouldn’t be fair to the members of the coalition who are helping to guard the castle if we showed preference towards the paladins,” Shiro says. “How would it look to take one of the rebels away from _their_ off-time so Lance can run around with his boyfriend? He has the whole day off tomorrow, that should be enough.”

Allura looks troubled, arms crossed. She sighs. “I’m sorry, Lance, but Shiro is right,” she says after a moment. Lance’s shoulders slump, and he nods.

Then a hand slips into his, and Lance looks up. Keith smiles at him. “It’s okay,” he says. “I’ll just come hang out with you while you babysit. Two guards are better than one, right? Prince Loser won’t get passed us.”

Lance looks back at him, warmth building in his chest. He opens his mouth to respond when Shiro clears his throat.

“Actually, Keith, I was wondering if you could come with me so I could show you some plans we have been making that we may need the Blade for,” he says. “If that’s alright.”

Keith groans, “Shiro, come _on_ , I’m off duty.” He sounds like such a teenager that Lance has to fight off a grin, secretly proud that Keith is saying anything. The year before, Keith wouldn’t have taken any time off for himself, let alone let himself relax during the time off he did get.

“I know, I know,” Shiro says, looking sheepish. “I’d just...really appreciate your opinion. It’s been a long time since we last worked together. It’ll be like old times, right-hand man stuff.”

Keith frowns. “So then shouldn’t you be asking Lance?” he says, but he looks torn. Lance tugs on his hand, turning Keith to face him.

“It’ll be fine,” Lance says, grinning at Keith. “Go hang out with your brother, do nerdy strategy stuff. What I’ll be doing is super boring, anyway. I’ll meet up with you after my shift.”

Keith’s frown deepens. “Lance, are you sure—”

“ _Yes_ ,” Lance says. “It’ll be fine. Right?” He directs the last question to Shiro, who is looking at them blankly. Shiro’s expression hardens, but he sounds downright carefree when he says “Of course!”

“Okay then,” Lance says. He leans forward to peck Keith on the lips. “I’m gonna go change into my armor. I’ll see you guys later.”

Keith nods, and Lance leaves. When he reaches his room, he collapses back against the closed door, wringing his hands. He feels guilt and worry rise up his throat like vomit, leaving his hands clammy and his skin pale. He doesn’t _think_ not-Shiro will do anything to Keith, he hasn’t done anything to the others, but he can’t be sure. He can’t get the previous day out of his mind, the unfamiliar voice, the heat of Shiro’s Galra arm.

He takes a moment, waits for his legs to feel steady again, before moving and donning his armor.

In the lower decks, as he’s walking over to his spot in front of Lotor’s cage, Lance hears Lotor say, “Well, it looks as though _someone’s_ in a mood.”

“Shut the fuck up, man.”

***

Later, the familiar hum of Pidge’s forcefield is interrupted by a quiet “Hey.”

Lance sits up, bayard activated and ready. “Who’s there?” he says. From the corner of his eye, he can see Lotor sit up and pay attention. There’s footsteps, and Keith peeks his head around a corner.

“Jesus,” he says. “Put that down, what are you doing?”

Lance sighs, deactivating his bayard and laughing. “What am _I_ doing? What are you doing sneaking around?”

Keith shrugs, walking over to sit next to Lance. He keeps his eyes on Lotor on his cot as he moves, suspicious. He’s still wearing his civilian clothes, which sends a happy thrill through Lance. Keith rarely ever lets himself relax long enough to change out of his Marmora uniform.

“This place is like a maze,” Keith says. “Why is it so dark?”

Lance shrugs. “Coran says it has to do with saving power or something.” He eyes the camera up near the ceiling. “Uh, does Shiro know you’re here?”

Keith makes a face. “Ugh, Shiro,” he says, looking every inch the annoyed baby brother. “What’s his deal anyway? Why’s he being such a hardass?”

Lance shrugs again, awkwardly. “I don’t know, man. It seemed like he just wanted to spend some time with you.”

“Well, sure,” Keith says. “That, or he was being a hardass. He didn’t need me to go over those plans, that’s what Kolivan is for. He just kept asking me questions about base locations, as if I know any of that stuff.” He rolls his eyes. “If he wanted to hang out, we could have like, sparred or something.”

And, okay, Lance doesn’t mean to, but the thought of Keith sparring with Shiro sends a jolt of fear through his stomach, and his reflexive “ _No!”_ is louder than he intends it to be.

There’s a long moment, and Keith opens his mouth to say something, only to be interrupted by a quiet clearing of the throat. The two of them turn their heads simultaneously towards the cell.

“Well,” Lotor says, face politely interested, “aren’t you going to introduce me to your friend, Blue Paladin?” He’s standing for the first time Lance has seen. He towers over the both of them.

“I thought I told you to shut up, Lotor,” Lance snaps.

“ _I_ thought you weren’t supposed to have visitors, _Lance_ ,” Lotor says.

Lance rolls his eyes, turning back to Keith, whose brow is furrowed. “That’s not a real rule,” Lance says. “Shiro just got pissy with me and Hunk once. He thought Hunk was distracting me one day when he brought lunch.”

Keith keeps his eyes on Lotor, then he drops his voice and says, “Can we talk for a minute?” He throws a glare Lotor’s way. “Away from here?”

Lance internally groans, recognizing Keith’s tone of voice. “Yeah, sure. I can’t go too far, though.”

Keith just nods, standing and reaching down to help Lance up. He grips Lance’s hand tight as they walk away, glaring at Lotor the entire time.

When they reach a good enough distance, Keith whirls on Lance. “How long has he been talking to you?”

Lance groans, “Really?”

“How does he know your name?”

Lance doesn’t say that he’d given it to Lotor himself, tired of hearing himself referred to as “Blue Paladin” all day. “I’m not the only person he sees, you know,” Lance says. “One if the other guards could have said it, or Shiro and Allura.”

“Shiro wouldn’t do that.”

“Then _I don’t know,_ Keith.” Lance throws his hands in the air. “Is it important? He thinks he’s funny, or something. It’s all ‘Lance this, Lance that.’”

“Oh, so he talks to you a lot?” Keith asks. “That isn’t good, Lance. What else has he told you?”

“Jesus Christ, you sound like Shiro,” Lance says.

“Well, maybe me and Shiro have cause to worry!”

Lance rubs his eyes. “He hasn’t told me _anything_ , Keith. And if he had, I would have said something. He just taunts me, asks me questions I won’t answer. It’s nothing I can’t handle.”

“Are you sure about that, Lance?” Keith snaps. Lance winces, one hand rubbing down the side of his face. “I mean, that you would say something? Because the last I heard, he just sat there sleeping the whole time.”

For a quick moment, Lance wants to blow up at Keith. _Oh, so_ now _you want to know what’s going on? Now you’re worried? Now you don’t trust me to do the right thing?_ He has no idea what Lance has gone through, how Lance no longer feels safe in his own home. Keith left, _again_. Like it had been easy. Like he barely even cared. So why should Lance have told Keith about Lotor? What would Keith have done, so far away?

The red lion roars in his chest, stoking the fires of his anger. He stifles it. He closes his eyes and takes a deep breath. It’s not Keith’s fault that Lance hasn’t said anything, it’s Lance’s. It’s not Keith’s lack of trust that led to all of the secrets Lance has been harboring, it’s Lance’s. Everything, the secrets, the isolation, Lance did it to himself. It’s his fault.

“Look,” Lance says. “It’s really not a big deal, I promise. He really just...makes fun of me. Tries to mess with me. He hasn’t said anything. I promise I would have said something.”

Keith stares at him for a moment before he sighs. “Okay,” he says. “I’m sorry. I trust you, of course I do. Shiro was complaining about how he never says anything in their talks with him. I was just...caught off guard, I guess. It threw me off.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I should have told you,” Lance says. “Things have just been...stressful. And I know you weren’t very happy about me doing this. I get why you were worried.”

“It’s got nothing to do with you,” Keith says. “I don’t trust _him_. He’s a fucking creep. Shiro says he will only agree to talk if it’s only Allura in the room, like that’ll ever happen.” He pauses. “And you’ve been...distant. You’ve been off, lately. I just don’t want you to get hurt.”

“I’ll be fine,” Lance says. “I’m not scared of him.” He laughs. “I’m more likely to get hurt on the training deck.”

“About that,” Keith says. “Are you okay? We haven’t had the chance to talk—”

“I’m _fine_ , Keith,” Lance whines. “I swear. But right now you really need to go, before Shiro—”

“Before Shiro what?”

They spring apart, weapons raised. Shiro emerges from the darkness, hands raised placatingly. They drop their weapons, but Lance keeps ahold of his. Lance feels weirdly out of breath, heart pounding with every step Shiro makes closer to them.

“Jesus, Shiro,” Keith says. “Warn a guy.”

Once Shiro reaches them, he crosses his arms, face taking on that “Disappointed Dad” look he sometimes gets. “This is what I was afraid would happen,” he says.

“What?” Keith says defensively. Lance just sighs.

“I knew if I let you down here that you would just distract Lance,” Shiro says. “Look at the two of you. Lotor could be in an escape pod and halfway to Arus by now.”

“We’re like, ten feet away,” Keith says.

“All the same. Lance.” Lance flinches. “I need you back at your post. Keith, you’re with me. Maybe we can get some training done.” Lance flinches again, hard. This time, Keith notices.

He gives Lance a look, then turns to Shiro. “Whatever, sure,” he says. “Can you give us a minute?”

“Lance is on duty, Keith.”

“I’ll be right behind you.” Shiro looks like he wants to object some more, but he leaves them to it. He gives Lance a hard look before turning and walking away.

“Okay,” Keith says, once Shiro’s out of earshot. He slips one of his hands into Lance’s and presses the other to Lance’s cheek, lifting Lance’s gaze to his. “What’s going on? Why are you being so weird around Shiro?”

“I’m not.”

“You are,” Keith says. “You were weird before, too, when I said me and Shiro could train together.”

Lance bites his lip, looking away. In his head he still hears the whir of Shiro’s arm, can still feel the knee in the small of his back.

“We need to talk about that,” Keith says. He looks so determined and, despite how horrible he’s feeling, Lance can’t help but feel warmed by the attention. “About what happened with Shiro.”

Lance shakes his head. “No—”

“ _Yes_ ,” Keith says. “Lance, you know Shiro didn’t mean to do it, right?”

Lance nods. “Of course I do.”

“No,” Keith says. “I don’t think you do. Or...or you’re still scared. I get it.”

Lance sighs. “Look, Keith—”

“He would never hurt you,” Keith says. “He was just...lost. He got lost.”

Lance closes his eyes, gritting his teeth. The memory is still so fresh, he can feel the bloom of pain raining down the side of his face. He’s tired of hiding, of speculating, of feeling alone. For once, Keith is _right here._ He’s safe, and solid, and warm, and _Lance’s._ He trusts Lance. Maybe Lance should take a chance and learn to trust him back.

“What if...What if he wasn’t?” Lance says.

“What?” Keith says.

“Lost,” Lance clarifies. “What if...What if he wasn’t lost? What if he was trying to hurt me?”

“Lance, he wasn’t,” Keith says.

“But how do you _know?_ ” Lance pleads. “You weren't there. You—”

“Lance, Shiro wouldn’t ever hurt you,” Keith says, slowly. “He had a flashback. It’s happened before.”

“I’m telling you, it wasn’t a flashback,” Lance days. “He was...He was in control. He...he _talked_ to me—”

“What are you saying?” Keith says, voice getting louder. “Why would you say that? Shiro’s your friend, he’s my _brother_. Why would he—”

“Is everything okay?”

Keith turns back to Shiro, hand still in Lance’s. Lance closes his eyes. He’s still finding it hard to breathe. This was a mistake, a huge mistake. Of course. Of course he should have never said anything.

“We’re fine,” Keith says. “Shiro, I’ll be right there.”

Shiro raises his hands, backing off. Keith turns back to Lance, squeezing Lance’s hand.

“Lance,” he says.

“Keith,” Lance says. Keith has a kind of angry, frustrated look in his eyes. Lance gives up. He leans forward, voice dropping to a whisper. “Just, when you go, don’t spar with Shiro.”

“Lance—”

“ _Please_ ,” Lance says. “For me. If you love me, please don’t spar with Shiro.”

“I...Okay,” Keith says. “But we’re going to talk about this. I want to know why.”

Lance breathes a sigh of relief. “Thank you,” he says. “I know it seems like I’m...like I’m crazy, but please. For me.

“Right,” Keith says.  “Well, I better—”

“Yeah!” Lance breathes. “Yeah, I gotta get back to—”

“Yeah,” Keith says. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“For sure,” Lance says. “Love you.”

“Yeah,” Keith says, and he looks terrifyingly hesitant. Lance’s stomach drops. “Me too.”

He turns and leaves, and every step rings loudly in Lance’s ears. He feels hollow. He had tried. He’d actually tried to tell someone, and it went exactly as he’d thought it would.

When he returns to his spot before Lotor, the prince is back on his cot, legs crossed and arms folded.

“No visitors this time?” he asks, not opening his eyes.

“No,” Lance says, dropping to sit on the floor in his usual place. “It’s just me.”

***

Surprisingly, Keith doesn’t demand answers from Lance right away.

Lance is relieved from his position by a member of the rebellion, and when he makes it up to the active floors of the castle he finds the Keith in the lounge, getting his ass handed to him by Pidge in _Killbot Phantasm I_ while Matt watches.

“You’re still so bad at this,” Pidge is saying. “How are you still so bad at this?”

“It’s really not a hard game,” Matt says from the couch. “But you’re making it look so difficult.”

“Yeah, because the Blades just have _Killbot_ lying around for me to practice on,” Keith says, not looking away from the screen. He lifts one elbow up in the air, smashing his fingers against the controller. His character runs into the wall a few times.

“Not the point, you’re a _pilot_ . Hand-eye coordination is like, your _thing_ ,” Pidge says, swiftly executing a special move that subsequently throws Keith’s character off of a cliff and wins her the round.

“Hate to break it to you, Pidge, but you’re a pilot now too. No more ‘dumb jock pilot’ jokes for you,” Lance says, sticking his head in.

“Oh, Lance!” Keith says. “Finally done babysitting?”

Pidge wrinkles her nose, dropping her controller in her lap and crossing her arms. “Ugh, I _am_ a pilot,” she says. “But like...a science pilot.”

“At least I didn’t go and become a jock when I came to space,” Matt says. Pidge whips around to glare at him.

“You know how to fly a ship, I’ve seen it, you—”

Lance rolls his eyes. “I’m gonna go get changed into normal clothes,” he says, waving his deactivated bayard. “Be right back.”

He turns to leave, only to come face to face with Shiro.

He jumps back, startled, and Shiro raises an eyebrow at him. “You okay?” he asks. Hunk peeks around from behind Shiro, looking interested.

Lance nods, laughing a little. “Jesus,” he says, doing his best to sound lighthearted. “I think I just lost five years off my life, Shiro. Not cool, man. I’ll get wrinkles. We need to put a bell on you.”

Shiro chuckles. “I’ll do better next time,” he says. He moves passed Lance, making his way into the lounge. Hunk raises his eyebrows at Lance before following. Lance hangs back in the doorway to see what’s going on.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” Hunk says. “So don’t start another level.”

“That’s okay,” Pidge says. “It’s not like we were even going anywhere with this. Keith still sucks.”

“Hey!”

“I can’t believe you turned down training for this,” Shiro says. “You knew Pidge was going to destroy you.”

Lance feels his shoulders slump in relief, drooping against the door frame. Keith looks up, and for a split second his eyes meet Lance’s.

“Oh my god, Shiro. It’s my time off, can you blame me?”

“But you love training,” Shiro pouts.

“Like, half my life is training,” Keith says, rolling his eyes.

“Keith _is_ training,” Pidge says. “He’s training to not suck at _Killbot_.”

“It’s gonna take a lot more than training for that to happen,” Hunk says, and Keith squawks in protest.

Lance watches them, smiling as Keith protests Hunk and Pidge’s teasing. His smile drops as he notices Shiro looking at him, eyes blank.

He straightens his back, making to leave, and in the process sees that Shiro isn’t the only one looking at him.

Matt, ignoring the excited teenagers before him, is looking between Lance and Shiro suspiciously. When he sees Lance looking back at him, his face softens.

Lance looks away, feeling awkward, and hears Matt call, “Hey, Lance, wait up!”

The banter from the others quiets as Matt stands to cross the room towards Lance. “Mind if I join you? I left something in my room. We can walk to dinner together.” He gives Lance a very clear _“We need to talk”_ look.

Lance does his best to hide his confusion. “Why, an escort?” he says, in his best fake southern accent. “A gentleman caller? How nice.”

Matt laughs. “Why, it wouldn’t be proper for a southern belle such as yourself to go about walking alone,” he says. He sounds like Colonel Sanders, and Lance barely suppresses his laughter. Matt offers his arm. “M’lady,” he says, and Lance happily takes it.

He looks back to see Keith frowning up at them, pinned under Hunk, who appears to be sitting on him. “Hey, wait,” he says, attempting to dislodge his friend.

“Too late,” Lance says. “You missed your chance. Relationship ended with Keith Kogane, Colonel Sanders is my boyfriend now.”

Matt laughs, and they leave to the sound of Keith’s protests. They walk for a good minute in comfortable silence, then Matt moves away from Lance, turning to face him.

They're not quite to the living quarters yet, but they’re far enough a way that it would take a bit for the others to reach them.

“Um,” Lance says, hesitant under Matt’s serious eyes. “You know, I was just kidding about the boyfriend thing—”

“Are you okay?” Matt asks.

Lance stills. “Uh, yeah,” Lance says. “Did it look like I was...not?”

“No,” Matt says, then he sighs. “Yes. You looked...scared.”

Lance laughs, “I’m fine—”

“ _No_ ,” Matt says. “I’ve been watching you. You act...different. Around Shiro.” Lance winces. “See, it’s even when he’s _mentioned_.”

“Matt,” Lance says. “It’s really...you know what happened yesterday.”

“It’s been longer than that,” Matt says. “I know I’m still new around here, but it’s been…” He stops, sighing and running his hands through his hair.  “Shiro’s different.”

Lance’s eyes widen. “How?” Lance says. “Tell me.”

“At first I thought it was because...of all that’s happened,” Matt says. “Of course he would be different, _I’m_ different. Katie’s different. But the longer I’m here, the more I’m convinced it’s...more than that.”

“He’s...he’s cold. And maybe I didn’t know him too well, but Shiro was never cold. He acts normal around the others, but I can see it there behind his eyes. It’s not sincere. Shiro is the most sincere person I’ve ever met.”

“And I thought maybe this is just how he is now, but then I noticed you,” he says. “You act different around him. He acts different around you. And what happened yesterday...it didn’t seem as though he had gone out of control. Just call it a gut feeling. What’s going on?”

Lance sighs, running his hands down his face. “I don’t know,” Lance says, honestly. “I don’t...something’s wrong. He’s acting weird, and Red keeps giving me these weird vibes, and...it wasn’t a flashback.”

He covers his mouth with one hand, slumping back against the wall of the hallway. “Something's wrong, and I know it. And I think he knows that I know it, which is why he treats me differently. I think he was trying to hurt me yesterday, maybe kill me. I don’t know. I’m... _so_ fucking scared.”

He looks down, wringing his hands. This feels like a weird conversation to be having in the bright hallways of the castle. This is a conversation for the dark. Lance feels a weird sort of longing for the lower decks.

“Okay,” Matt says.

Lance gapes. “ _Okay?_ ”

“Look, I’m new,” Matt says. “I didn't say anything before, because I wasn’t sure of my place here. But there’s obviously something wrong here. You, Lance...you’re just a kid. You’re all kids, here, and if you’re saying you feel like you’re in danger I’m going to believe you.”

“But he’s...he’s our _leader_ ,” Lance says.

“Not my leader,” Matt says. “I’m not a part of Voltron, and I answer to the rebellion. If there’s someone in a position of authority who isn’t doing the right thing, we need to do something. That’s the _point_ of rebelling.”

He smiles, reaching over to clap a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “I promise, Lance. It’s going to be okay.”

Lance’s shoulders slump, and he nods, feeling drained. He’s so _relieved._ Someone believes him. Someone’s going to help.

“You’re going to have to tell me everything,” Matt says. “Have you told anyone else about this?”

“I hinted stuff at Hunk, but he had no idea what I was talking about,” Lance says. “And...I told Keith. I’m not sure he believed me. I made him promise not to spar with him though.” He ducks his head.

“Right,” Matt says, looking sympathetic. “I think we should avoid telling the other paladins. You said you think he’s targeting you because you know something? But if shit goes down, we might need the Blade’s help. So maybe telling Keith would be a good thing.”

“What about me?” Keith asks, and Lance jumps. He’s standing at the end of the hallway, arms crossed and defensive.

“Keith,” Lance says. “We were just—”

“Discussing telling you of our engagement,” Matt says in his fake southern accent, winding an arm through Lance’s. “He said yes.”

Lance laughs awkwardly. “What he said.”

Keith sighs. “Whatever,” he says. “Everyone’s already at dinner. I came to see what the holdup is. You haven’t even changed?”

“Alright, alright,” Lance says. “I’m going. I’ll be right there.”

“I’m going with you,” Keith says, walking up and grabbing Lance’s hand. He starts to pull Lance down the hallway. “I’ll show you what a _real_ escort looks like.”

This startles a laugh out of Lance, and Matt guffaws. “Okay, I see how it is,” Matt says. “I’ll see you guys at dinner. Lance, I’ll talk to you later.” He gives Lance a significant look, before turning and walking towards the mess hall.

“What was all of that?” Keith asks. “What were you two talking about?”

Lance swallows, squeezing Keith’s hand. He needs to say something, Matt told him he should, but after his first failed attempt the words stick in his throat. “I’ll tell you later.”

***

Later that night, Lance is awakened to the roar of the red lion. Or at least, he thinks he is.

He jolts upright in bed, dislodging the arm Keith had thrown over his chest at some point during the night. He’s hot, so hot. He thinks he’s imagining the walls of his room tinting red in the heat. The roar in his ears dies down, and another sound replaces it.

There’s a sound, muffled through the door to Lance’s room. Lance freezes, holding his breath and willing his heartbeat to calm so he can hear. When the sound registers, his breath hitches in his throat, choking him

A deep, throaty drone, rising and falling in pitch.

The doors to all of the rooms in the castle are sliding doors, activated by panels to the side of them on the wall. There are no cracks, no openings at the bottom to look under and see feet, no keyholes to peer through. Lance has been locking his door at night for weeks now.

He knows, without a doubt, that Shiro is on the other side of that door.

He feels his breath start to quicken, heart beating in his throat. He knows the door is locked, but what if it isn’t enough? What if Allura gave him an override? Why is he here? Does he know Lance told Matt? Is Matt okay? Does he know Lance told _Keith?_

Keith. Lance scrambles to grab Keith’s hand, resting palm up on the bed. Keith stays asleep, and that’s wrong. Keith has trouble sleeping, and when he does he’s a light sleeper. Lance squeezes his hand.

“Keith,” he hisses. “ _Keith_.”

Keith remains asleep.

There’s a knock on the door.

“Keith,” he whispers. “Keith, _please._ ”

Another knock, three knocks, four. A steady counterpoint to the patterned wavering of Shiro’s droning voice. It’s so loud, the sound a physical pressure on Lance’s head.

He slowly slides back down onto the bed. He clutches Keith’s limp hand in his, covering the both of them with the blanket, the covers well over their heads.

“Please, please, please,” Lance pleads. “Please, Keith. Please wake up.”

He doesn’t.

Lance chokes on a sob, and the droning reaches fever pitch. The knocking gets louder, until it sounds as though someone is taking a hammer to the door. Lance closes his eyes, pressing Keith’s hand between both of his. He flinches with every bang.

Keith doesn’t wake up. Lance opens his eyes and looks at him. He looks peaceful. Lance scoots closer, pressing his forehead to Keith’s. “I’m so sorry,” he whispers. “I can’t...I don’t know what to do. I’m alone.”

 _You’re not_.

“No,” he says, louder. “I am.”

He looks at Keith, memorizes his scars, counts his eyelashes. “Aren’t I?”

 _Not now, not ever. He’s here. Do something_.

Lance throws the covers off, swinging his legs over the side of the bed. Not-Shiro is hammering on the door to the point where Lance can see the metal bowing slightly under the assault.

“I’m doing something,” Lance tells himself. He grabs his bayard. “I’m the only one who can. I’m doing something.”

He activates his bayard and points it at the door. Keith doesn’t wake up.

The banging takes on a new urgency, like the man who isn’t Shiro has started kicking it as well as hammering. The droning is so loud it sounds almost as though it’s coming from inside of Lance.

“I’m not alone,” Lance yells over the noise. “And I’m _doing something_.”

_Finally._

He crosses the room, slams a hand on the panel, and opens the door.

***

“ _Lance_ ,” Keith says, grabbing Lance’s shoulders and shaking him once, twice, three times. Lance gasps awake, blinking away tears.

“I,” Lance says, “Keith? Keith. Shiro—”

Keith shushes him, grasping at his upper arms, the sides of his neck, his cheeks. “You’re okay,” he says. “You had another nightmare.”

“ _Keith_ ,” Lance says, voice cracking. “You’re here. You’re awake.”

“I am,” Keith says. “I’m here. You’re okay.”

“No,” Lance says. “No, Keith. Shiro.”

“He’s fine,” Keith says. “He didn’t mean to hurt you. I talked to him about it. It’s—”

“ _No_ ,” Lance says. “Keith, listen to me. He’s not Shiro.”

Keith freezes, dropping his hands. “What?” he asks, weakly.

“He’s not. Believe me, he’s not. It’s...Something’s not right. He’s wrong. It’s not Shiro. I thought I was...I thought I was wrong, but I’m not. I’m sure now. He’s not Shiro.”

“Lance,” Keith says, voice breaking.

“ _Listen to me,”_ Lance says desperately. “ _Please,_ Keith. I’m not wrong. I’m not crazy. There’s something bad happening, and I need you to _believe me._ ”

Keith looks torn, but he stops objecting. He studies Lance’s face and then takes a moment to close his eyes. When they open, they're determined. They’re the eyes of the former red paladin, the one with good instincts.

“Okay,” he says. “Okay. Tell me.”

Lance does.

***

Compared to the first day of his visit, the second is like a dream.

Lance is lighter than air, a being of pure relief. They had stayed up almost the entire night talking. Or, well, Lance had talked, and yelled, and maybe cried on Keith’s shoulder. Keith was still unsure, but willing to give Lance the benefit of the doubt after seeing how upset Lance had been, and hearing the facts.

They had eventually decided that it would be best for them to hold off on planning anything before Lance got the opportunity to talk to Matt. Keith had wanted to confront Shiro right away, but Lance had talked him out of it. At the moment, the only people who realize anything is wrong are Lance, Keith, and Matt. They need proof.

And, with that out of the way, they decide to take the day to just...hang out.

They spend most of the day in Lance’s room, alternatively napping, arguing, and, well, fooling around. It’s such a relief for Lance to be able to speak freely for once, after so long holding back. It makes him realize he _had_ been acting differently. Every joke and pick-up line he throws Keith’s way feels like coming back to himself. He feels like he can be confident again.

So it turns out Keith’s Romantic Valentine’s Day Surprise Plan started and ended with him showing up at the castle.

“ _What?”_ Lance crows, delighted. “So no grand gestures? No chocolates? No flowers? You’re not going to serenade me from the highest balconies of the castleship?”

“One would think begging off of my very important job, hopping in a spaceship, and flying across the galaxy would be considered a pretty grand gesture,” Keith replies wryly.

“One would be wrong,” Lance says. “I demand _passion!_ I demand _drama!_ I demand _chocolate!”_

He throws a wrist over his forehead, dropping backwards onto Keith, whose laughter is interrupted by Lance’s elbow accidentally jabbing him in the stomach.

“Oh my _god_ ,” he wheezes. “You’re too much.” He guides them both down onto the bed, poking and pinching at Lance until they’re situated comfortably. Lance twists to look up at him, taking him in. He looks comfortable, in one of Lance’s shirts and his boxers. His hair is a mess, from a combination of untamed bedhead and hours of Lance running his fingers through it. He tightens his hold on Lance, a tiny wrinkle forming between his eyebrows, and Lance knows he’s thinking about it again. About Shiro.

Lance doesn’t know what it is, but he doesn’t feel all that worried at the moment. Maybe he’s fickle, or too optimistic, but telling Keith had shifted something within him. He can’t help thinking that things are going to work out. He has people at his back, now. He has Keith, and Keith believes him. Laying there, curled together, Lance feels truly safe.

They only have two visitors the entire day. The first is Hunk.

“I’m coming in!” he yells. “Make yourselves decent! I’m just dropping by!”

“We’re _fine,”_ Lance calls from his spot lying with his head on Keith’s lap. “Your virgin eyes are safe.”

Hunk enters, a tray balanced in one hand and the other pressed firmly over his eyes.

“I made sorta-but-not-really chocolate mousse,” he says. “For everyone.” He attempts to navigate Lance’s room with his eyes covered, but seeing as the room was inhabited by two teenage boys who have a habit of leaving pieces of their armor wherever they fall, he nearly trips almost immediately.

“Oh my god, we’re not doing anything,” Keith says, as red as Lance’s lion. Lance reaches up to pat his face. “Just open your eyes.”

“Nope, no, no way. I’m not taking any chances,” Hunk says. “I’ve lived with Lance a long time now, I know how this goes.” He sets the tray gingerly onto Lance’s bed and does a swift about face.

On the tray, there is indeed two small bowls of a bright pink substance, topped with a jauntily placed candy heart.

“I tried to explain to the Alteans that that’s the human symbol for a heart,” Hunk says, swiftly making his way out. “But I don’t think they got it. Coran, in particular, was _very_ adamant that our hearts do not look like that because, surprise! He x-rays us in our sleep. So I’m going to go deal with the fallout of _that_. Have fun, you crazy kids, but not too much fun. Stay hydrated. Goodnight!”

The door shuts behind him, and the two of them burst into laughter.

Their second visitor is, of course, Shiro.

Keith is attempting to persuade a very lazy and very comfortable Lance into taking a ride in Red, when they hear a small knock at the door.

“Hey, guys,” Shiro says through the door. “It’s me, Shiro.”

Lance freezes, his dream still fresh in his mind. Keith looks at him, jaw clenched, and stands swiftly. He walks to the door and lifts a hand to open it, but hesitates.

“Guys?” Shiro says.

Keith’s shoulders slump. “Yeah,” he says, opening the door. From his spot on the bed, Lance can see where Shiro is, but not his face.

“You two haven’t eaten yet, right?” Shiro says, smiling down at Keith. “I know it’s date night or whatever, but you need to eat.”

“We’re fine,” Keith says shortly. Lance winces. Keith definitely could use some acting lessons. “We’ll get something later.”

Lance gets up, socked feet padding over to stand behind Keith. Shiro looks confused by Keith’s tone, but when he sees Lance his frown deepens.

“Listen, Keith,” Shiro says. “I get that you two are...dating. But the rest of the team wants to see you too. We all miss you, not just Lance.”

He sends Lance a look that has Lance flinching, shifting to hide himself further behind Keith. Keith notices, and grits his teeth.

“It’s Valentine’s Day,” Keith says.  “It makes sense for us to spend the day together.”

“You can spare an hour to have dinner with the team,” Shiro says. “Holidays are for families. And aren’t we family? Brothers?” He raises an eyebrow at Keith.

Keith looks down, his mouth twisting and his face taking on a guilty expression. Lance feels anger bubble up in his chest. This isn’t Shiro, he knows it isn’t, but whoever it is, they know how to manipulate Keith.

“We’ll be there,” Lance says, wrapping an arm around Keith’s waist.

Keith looks at him, then looks unsubtly back at Shiro. “You sure?” he says, still looking at Shiro. It’s clear that Keith is making a show of loyalty towards Lance, and Lance can feel the red lion’s amusement, deep in his chest. He smiles at Keith, squeezing his waist.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m sure Hunk made some kind of special holiday dinner. And after, we can go on that ride you wanted.” He looks back at Shiro, watching them with a stiff expression. “That okay, Shiro?”

Shiro looks reluctant, but he nods. “I’ll see you there,” he says, and walks away. Keith lets the door shut and turns to press up against Lance’s chest.

“That was fucking awkward,” he says, voice muffled against Lance’s collarbone.

“Understatement,” Lance says. He presses one hand to Keith’s back and one against the back of Keith’s head. “He knows,” he says, solemnly. “He knows I told you.”

“I don’t care, let him try something,” Keith growls. He pulls away from Lance, stepping back, and Lance watches his angry expression dissolve away.

“I’m sorry,” he says suddenly. “I’m still...I’m still not sure...He seems _normal_ —”

Lance steps toward him, hands outstretched. “No, it’s fine, Keith. I’m...I’m _so_ sorry to make you choose like this. I never wanted to, I thought it was just me. But—”

“No,” Keith says, with finality. “Shiro or not, mind controlled or not, you haven’t felt safe. You’ve been threatened and bullied and injured in your own home. That _has_ to be taken seriously. I can’t forgive that.”

Lance opens his mouth to protest, but closes it. Keith is right. What’s been happening is wrong, and Lance is done feeling guilty over it.

Keith takes a deep breath, looking around the messy room. He scratches at his messy hair. His legs look skinny and pale against the dark blue of his boxer shorts, and there’s a purple spot high on his neck where Lance had maybe gotten a bit _too_ enthusiastic. “I guess we should get dressed for dinner,” Keith says, reluctantly. He eyes the various piles of clothes on the floor with contempt. Lance _loves_ him.

“Hey,” Lance says, and Keith looks at him curiously, eyes big and dark. “I really love you, you know that?”

Keith blinks once, twice, then a wide, rare smile blooms across his face. “Of course I do,” he says. “I love you too.”

“Yeah,” Lance says, smiling down at his feet, and then back up at Keith. “Also, you should forget putting pants on for dinner. Can you imagine Hunk’s face if you showed up in your underwear?”

***

Dinner had been...awkward, but blessedly short.

Lance hadn’t managed to convince Keith of showing up in his boxers, but Keith had kept Lance’s shirt, steadfastly ignoring the taunts and wolf whistles it got him as they walked into the mess hall. Hunk had indeed made a special Valentine’s Day dinner, but it seemed as though it was pretty much the same fare, dyed pink.

“I improvised,” Hunk said, defensively. “Do you know how long it took to get that mousse right?”

“Yes, yes, and we all love you for it,” Lance cooed. “But really? Pink food goo?”

“Well, _I_ happen to appreciate it very much, Hunk,” Allura had said, twirling her spork in the goo. “It’s almost as though it’s a holiday dedicated to me!”

“Yeah, about that,” Pidge had said. “Since pink is the color of mourning in Altean culture, are you like, a super goth? Is this holiday like Halloween to you?” Which had devolved into a table-wide attempt to explain what a goth was to the Alteans and whatever other aliens from the rebellion who were attending dinner there.

“Not to be confused, of course, with the emo,” Pidge had said, gesturing to where Keith sat (protectively between Lance and Shiro). Keith rolled his eyes, but nodded solemnly.

And once dinner ended, they started preparing to go for a joyride.

“So how is this going to work?” Lance asks as they walk into Red’s hangar. “Do you think Red will let both of us fly her?”

Keith shrugs, and the expression he makes when he sees Red has Lance’s breath catching in his throat. He looks hungry, energized. “I just want to go fast,” Keith says.

Lance just nods. Keith grabs his hand, pulling him bodily towards the lion.

When they both make it into the cockpit, the red lion is thrumming with excited energy. She shivers with every step they take, leaning forward on her toes as though about to pounce. The feeling is exhilarating, like pop rocks in Lance’s heart, and he thinks Keith can feel it too, because he keeps letting out these little half-laughs, shaking his head.

The airlock is barely open, and they’re shooting into the endless expanse of stars.

They go straight out. There’s nothing stopping them. Lance lets Red take control, and she races through the air, trailing stardust. Keith stands behind him, holding onto the pilot’s seat and laughing, loud and carefree. She starts to corkscrew at the sound, roaring happily, and Lance whoops in delight.

It’s the fastest Lance has ever gone, with Keith solid behind, occasionally leaning forward to whisper tips and tricks into Lance’s ear, pointing out different controls on Red’s console.

They race passed various planets and countless stars. Everything outside of the lion is a blur of color and light. Lance chuckles, breathless.

“What?” Keith says, fingers clenching on the pilot seat. He’s bouncing on his toes, and Lance can feel his need to fly like it’s a physical thing.

Lance sends a question to Red, and she replies positively, and then he stops the lion.

“ _What_?” Keith says, almost whining. “Why’d we stop? Let’s go!”

“I don’t know,” Lance says, stepping up and walking around the seat. He walks behind Keith and places his hands on Keith’s shoulders, guiding him around and into the seat. “I’m tired,” Lance says. “I think it’s time for you to fly the lion.”

“What?” Keith says again. He looks down at himself.  “Me? She’ll let me?”

“I asked,” Lance says, nodding.

“ _Really?”_ Keith says.

“Really.”

“I...Really?” Keith says again. He looks up at the ceiling. “I don’t know. It’s been a long time—”

“Oh my god,” Lance groans. “You’re the greatest pilot of our generation. Show this cargo pilot how it's done.”

Keith frowns back at him. “Don’t put yourself down,” he says. “You fly her just fine.”

“ _Dude_ ,” Lance whines. He’s joined by a growl from Red.

Keith jumps. “I felt that,” he says. He looks up again, awed. “I can hear you, girl,” he says softly. Lance can’t stop himself from smiling, knowing how disconnected Keith has been. He’d told Lance that, with every visit, he can hear Red less and less. Red rumbles happily at the attention, and Lance feels light from his head to his toes.

“Weird,” Lance says smugly. “Seems to me like she wants you to fly her.”

Keith still doesn’t say anything, eyes suspiciously shiny. Red shudders, pawing at the air in front of her.

“Come on, flyboy,” Lance says. He puts his hands on Keith’s shoulders and squeezes. “Show me how it’s done.”

Keith scoffs at him, but he’s too distracted by the controls in front of him. He places his hands on the thrusters, clenching and unclenching his fingers. Red practically vibrates with tension, and Lance shivers, leaning forward over Keith’s head.

Keith rolls his shoulders, closing his eyes and cracking his neck. When he opens them again, they're fiery in a way they haven’t been in a long time.

Keith pushes forward, and they fly.

***

An indeterminate amount of time, three different solar systems, and an asteroid field later, Keith stops the lion and turns, beaming at Lance.

Lance looks wide-eyed down at him, cheeks flushed. He says, “Keith, that was—”

Keith pushes up, kneeling backwards on the pilot seat, and kisses him.

***

 _Another_ indeterminate amount of time later, cuddled in Red’s cockpit, Lance sighs and says, “What the _fuck_ am I going to do when you leave?”

The red lion floats gently through space, the stars passing slowly by across the front viewport. The floor beneath them is hard, but warm. They’d tried for a bit to fit the both of them into the pilot seat, which proved itself too small for Lance’s long limbs and Keith’s stocky body, and they’d fallen on the floor and stayed there.

“You’re going to lay low,” Keith says seriously. They’d already discussed at length whether Keith should return to the Blade under these circumstances and agreed the best course of action would be to start the Blade’s own investigation as soon as possible. He pulls Lance further up his chest to rest more comfortably. “You’re going to do your job and defend the universe, and you’re going to keep away from Shiro.”

“But how is that going to work?” Lance says. “We’re on the same team. I see him every day.”

“You said he doesn’t really try anything when the others are around, right? Just make sure the two of you are never alone,” Keith says.

Lance hums and nods, feeling the fear and the worry of the last few weeks come trickling back in. He does his best to squash the feeling, reluctant to ruin this almost perfect day.

“Why do you think...” Keith starts, looking up and out at the view before them. “If it’s not Shiro, why did Black let him in?”

Lance doesn’t say anything, it’s something he’s thought a lot about, turning the thought over and over in his head.

“That’s all I keep thinking about,” Keith says. “I never...I never really understood Black. Flying Black felt like...a duty. An obligation. There was no other choice, so we chose each other. But I know Black wouldn’t have let in someone who was going to hurt the team. So why?”

“I...I don’t know,” Lance says. “I’ve been trying to figure it out. But maybe it has to do with that. That obligation, I mean. Black woke up for Shiro when the rest of us were in trouble, right?”

Keith winces at the memory. “Right.”

“So maybe...maybe she just felt like she had to. She knew something was wrong, but the team was in danger. And he looks like Shiro, and sounds like Shiro, so she opened up.”

Keith takes a deep breath. “Maybe,” he says. Then he says,” Is it weird if that’s...if I say that’s kind of a relief?”

Lance leans up, looking down at him. “It’s a relief our friend and your brother was replaced with an evil twin?”

“No!” Keith says, looking away. “No, I meant...what you said, about Black choosing him because she had to. If that’s what it is.”

Lance gives him a questioning look, and he continues reluctantly.

“I just...I always thought she wasn’t letting Shiro in back then because...I don’t know. She expected more of me? Like, she had a reason for me to stay the black paladin, something I needed to do or figure out. And when she finally let Shiro fly her again I thought she had...given up on me ever figuring it out, or she had just given up on...me. I thought I had disappointed her. It felt like a failure.” He pauses, and Lance lays back down, sliding his hand into Keith’s. “I guess...I guess it’s just a relief to hear someone say that’s not the case. Not that ‘your adopted brother is actually an evil clone’ is a much better option.”

“Of course you didn’t fail her, dumbass,” Lance says. “I mean, that whole time you were being pretty flaky, and that was a little disappointing, but you did what you had to do. You gave the position back to Shiro because you felt that what you were doing was what was best for the team. You couldn’t have know what would have happened. None of us did.”

He flops backwards to face the ceiling, pressed on one side against Keith. “And, for what it’s worth, I thought we would have been fine if you stayed black paladin.”

Keith snorts. “Yeah, right.”

“No!” Lance says. “We would have! We were a good team!” He sits up and crosses his legs. “For one, you actually listened to me,” he says, counting off on his fingers. “Secondly, you didn’t let it get to your head and start ordering us around. _Thirdly_ , when you were black paladin, you weren’t all far away from me playing ninja in Galra territory. We watched out for each other. We would have been fine.”

Keith laughs. “I’m getting better at the reckless thing,” he says.

“ _Not the point_ ,” Lance says. “You were _fine_ as a leader. Good, even. You cared about us. And hey,” he reaches over to poke Keith in the cheek. “You never smashed my face in, so you have one up on Shiro in that case, at least.”

Keith frowns at him. “Not funny,” he says. “I really...Lance, you have to promise me you’ll stay away from him when I’m not here.”

“Keith,” Lance says softly. “We need to find some evidence to show the others, I’m the only one who—”

“Let Matt handle it,” Keith says. “I’ll talk to the Blade and see if I can learn anything about the area Shiro escaped from. You’ve been through so much, Lance. You’re the only one he’s targeting. You need to stay out of his way. Promise me.”

“I can’t,” Lance says. “What if he decides to go after one of the others? It’s easier if he’s just after me.”

“No, Lance,” Keith says. “We already know he’s willing to hurt you.”

“And if he does it again, then it will prove he’s not who he says he is.”

“And what if he _is?”_ Keith bursts out, sitting up to face Lance. “I keep thinking that, too. What if it’s not mind-control, or an evil twin, or a...I don’t know? A clone? What if it’s just _Shiro?”_

“What do you mean?” Lance asks.

“What if it’s just...just Shiro!” Keith says, voice taking on a desperate tone. “What if it’s my brother, and he’s hurting you and putting the team in danger. How am I supposed to fix that?”

“Keith, listen to me,” Lance says, moving forward to grab Keith’s forearms. “You said it yourself: Shiro would never do that. He wouldn’t hurt us, he loves you.” He pulls Keith closer. “Whatever...whoever that is, back there. That’s not Shiro. I told you about my dreams, right? The ones Red is showing me? I’m not even...I’m not even sure what I’m seeing is _human_.”

“I’m just...everything is all over the place,” Keith says. “I didn’t even...I didn’t even realize it wasn’t him. I was convinced. You need to promise me, Lance.”

“I’ll do my best,” Lance says.

“ _Lance,”_ Keith pleads.

“ _Okay_ ,” Lance says. “I’ll...I’ll try. I promise.”

“Thank you,” Keith says. “I don’t want to see you hurt again. I hate it.”

“I won’t be,” Lance says.

“You need to text me _every day_ ,” Keith says sternly.

Lance rolls his eyes. “I do that anyway, _mom_.”

Keith gives him a disgusted look, and Lance can’t help but double over in laughter.

“Don’t _ever_ call me that again,” Keith says. “What the fuck is wrong with you?” But Lance’s laughter is infectious, and soon Keith is laughing right along with him.

When they manage to calm down a bit, Lance leans over, threading his fingers through the hair at the sides of Keith’s head. He pulls Keith forward, pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“I think we’re going to be okay,” Lance says, smiling down at Keith. “This will work out, watch.”

Keith lifts one hand up to Lance’s closing his eyes. “I really hope you’re right,” he says. “I really do.”

They stay there, entwined, until Coran contacts the red lion, asking for their status.

***

Seeing Keith leave again is hard, but then again it always is.

They all see him off in the hangar where he landed the Marmoran ship, each of them in various stages of sadness.

Hunk, with tears in his eyes, loads Keith down with carefully proportioned tubs of food. “I know they aren’t feeding you enough out there. You’re too skinny.”

“I’m really not,” Keith says, smiling from under his hood. “But thank you.”

“You _are_ ,” Hunk says. “I ought to give Kolivan a piece of my mind.”

Pidge cries, then punches Keith in the arm for making her cry, then cries some more.

“You’re not going that long without visiting again,” she says, sniffling. “You’re not finished with your _Killbot_ training. I swear to god, I will hack the Blade’s servers and fuck up their OS.”

Keith nods solemnly, visibly uncomfortable with making her cry. “I’ll do my best,” he says. “I’ll tell Kolivan there’s a special training I need to attend.”

“You better,” Pidge says, and hugs him so hard he squeaks.

He goes from person to person, shaking hands with Coran and accepting an only-slightly-awkward hug from Allura. Him and Matt share a look, a quiet understanding between two people who don’t know each other that well, but are both involved in something dangerous. He says something to Matt, but Lance is too far away to hear it. Matt nods solemnly, before his face breaks into a smile and he drags Keith into a hug.

He sees Shiro last, standing stiffly before him. Lance, standing nearest to the ship,  can hear their conversation.

“You take care of yourself, out there,” Shiro says, smiling down at Keith. He offers his human hand out for a handshake.

“You too,” Keith says. He looks uncomfortable. He stares down at their feet, then at Shiro’s offered hand, and when he looks up his eyes are wide. He looks really young. He takes the hand. “And,” he starts, not letting go of Shiro’s hand once they’ve shaken, “and you take care of them, too.” He jerks his head towards the others.

Shiro looks vaguely surprised. “Of course,” he says, chuckling. “I always do.”

“Really?” Keith says seriously, completely ignoring Shiro’s tone.

“Yes,” Shiro says, brow furrowing. “What are you trying to say?”

“Nothing,” Keith says dismissively. “Just—”

“I am loyal to Voltron,” Shiro says. “Always.” His voice is flat and deep.

“I never said you weren’t,” Keith says, but he looks defiant. He steps closer to Shiro, hands still clasped together. “I know you are, because we’re family, right? Brothers?”

“We are,” Shiro says. “And I am loyal. That's not something that should have to be questioned. I’m not the one who left.”

Keith doesn’t show any outward sign that the comment has affected him, but when he lets go of Shiro’s hand he flexes it a bit, as though in pain. They don’t say anything more, Keith turning on one heel and heading toward the Marmora ship.

When he reaches Lance he says, lowly, “That’s not my brother.” He looks at Lance, and though his face is serious, his eyes are still holding onto that vulnerability they showed before, asking Shiro to take care of the team.”I don’t know who that is.”

Lance nods, unsure of what to say, and Keith’s face softens. “Remember to lay low,” he says. “And text me every day.” He looks back, and finds that Shiro is still looking at them. “I’ll be back as soon as I can,” he says. “I just need to talk to Kolivan, get some intel. Just, _please,_ Lance.”

Lance ducks forward, sliding his hands up underneath Keith’s hood and through Keith’s hair. He looks into Keith’s eyes and says,  “It’ll be okay.” He pushes up, pressing his lips to Keith’s forehead. “You know now, Matt knows. If he tries anything, we’ll be ready for him, I promise.”

Keith stares into his eyes for a long moment, before surging forward and kissing him, hard and passionate. Lance kisses back, eyes closing as he feels all his composure about Keith leaving fall away, his heart cracking in his chest.

Keith pulls away, cheeks flushed, and Lance doesn’t want him to go, can’t do this without him. He feels a tear fall down one cheek, and swipes it away violently. “Go,” Lance says. “Go get your intel, and then come back to us.”

Keith grabs Lance’s hand, twining their fingers and clasping hard. “Lay low,” he says. “And remember you’re not alone.” He darts forward to press another kiss to Lance’s trembling lips. Then he activates his mask, dropping Lance’s hand and climbing into the ship. “I love you, Lance,” he says, blank face looking down from above.

“I know,” Lance says, smiling. “Me too.”

Keith nods at him once, then turns to start the ship, and Lance is forced to move back as he takes off.

He walks backwards to where the others stand, watching Keith fly through the open airlock and get smaller and smaller. Eventually, Hunk claps a hand on his shoulder, graciously not mentioning the tears on Lance’s face, and Pidge says they need to close the hangar doors.

Lance watches them close, the forcefield keeping them from flying into space diminishing until nothing is left but the clean, white walls of the castleship. He listens as the others start to leave, and then he’s alone.

He shakes his head, rubbing his face on the sleeve of his shirt. “Not alone,” he says, softly, and there’s an affirming growl from Red, rolling through his chest.

He turns, and standing just before the door leading out of the hangar is Matt, waiting patiently. He waves cheerfully at Lance, though his eyes are serious.

Lance nods back, standing straighter. He walks over to Matt, as tall as he can. They’re overdue for an important talk.

***

_Text Log — Stardate 02152348:1244_

**Lance:** back on my bullshit

 **Lance:** [file:attached “prince_loser.jpeg”]

 **Keith:** Does he know you took that picture of him?

 **Lance:** are u kidding me?? have u seen the lighting in here? no person in their right mind would ever even attempt a photoshoot

***

_Text Log — Stardate 02172348:1635_

**Lance:** he wants us to go back to training tomorrow

 **Lance:** if that fool comes anywhere near me im going on the attack

 **Lance:** and im aiming for the balls

 **Keith:** Will Matt be there?

 **Lance:** i dont know...i guess i can ask him

 **Keith:** Do that.

 **Keith:** There’s no way he would try anything again. It’d be too suspicious.

 **Lance:** yeah ur right.

 **Lance:** i just i know its stupid but im still scared

 **Keith:** Shiro, my Shiro, used to tell me getting scared was a good thing.

 **Keith:** He said that if you’re scared it means you have something to lose.

 **Keith:** And if you have something to lose, it means you have something you care about so you fight as hard as you can.

 **Lance:** fuck i miss ur Shiro

 **Lance:** but that helps. thank u  <3

 **Lance:** when i shit my pants tomorrow ill tell them “I DID THAT BECAUSE I CARE ABOUT MY BOYFRIEND”

 **Keith** : Do evil clones even have balls?

 **Keith:** Or do you think he’s smooth like a Ken doll down there?

***

_Text Log — Stardate 02202348:0846_

**Lance:** good morning sunshine!!

 **Lance:** what a lovely day to wake up and remind my boyfriend im still alive!!

 **Keith:** Glad to hear it. :)

 **Lance:** <3

***

_Text Log — Stardate 02222348:0756_

**Lance:** [file:attached “still_alive.jpeg”]

 **Keith:** I miss you so fucking much.

***

_Text Log — Stardate 02242348:1134_

**Keith:** I’ve been looking into the area where Shiro told me he escaped the Galra ship.

 **Keith:** There’s no trace of any Galra presence. A complete dead end.

 **Lance:** i mean it was a long shot. i dont know if it was right to trust his information in the first place.

 **Lance:** but what can u do?

 **Keith:** It’s just…it’s frustrating.

 **Keith:** Even back then, he was lying. I never even noticed.

 **Lance:** its not ur fault. none of it is any of our faults but his.

 **Lance:** i have to go, we’re being called for another team briefing.

 **Lance:** idk when we’ll be back from whatever mission this is about but it shouldn't be more than a day

 **Lance:** i love you keith!! stay safe!

 **Keith:** I love you, too.

 **Keith:** And I promise, Lance. I will figure this out.

***

_Text Log — Stardate 02242348:2334_

**Keith:** Hey, I know you’re on a mission but I thought I’d...check.

 **Keith:** So are you back, yet?

***

 _Text Log — Stardate 02252348:_ 16 _42_

 **Keith:** Lance?

***

Keith groans in frustration, rubbing his hands through his hair roughly and dislodging his hood. He’s been attempting to comb through the Blade’s intelligence databases for anything about mind control, or brainwashing, or cloning, but thus far he’s been unsuccessful. There are too many variables, they just don’t _know_ what’s going on. It’s like a needle in a haystack, but he doesn’t know what needles or hay look like.

When he’d first returned to the base, he’d went straight to Kolivan with his concerns, but without sufficient proof, he’d been dismissed.

“We have an entire empire to overthrow,” he’d said. “We do not have the resources to spare on an investigation of our own allies, based on no physical evidence. You’re welcome to our databases, but for now you have a job to do.”

Keith hadn’t known, then, what to say to be taken seriously. He still doesn’t know. What could he have possibly told Kolivan to make him believe? That his boyfriend was scared to even _look_ at Shiro? That he was mean to the son of Lord Zarkon? That, when saying goodbye to Keith, Shiro hadn’t offered a hug?

Keith lets out a puff of breath, dragging his hands over his eyes. Lance hasn’t texted him in almost three days.

He’s not an idiot. He knows Lance has been hiding how bad he feels, how scared he is. Keith can see it when they video chat, in the strained edges of Lance’s smile and the dark bags under his eyes. He’d promised to text every day, and a part of Keith, the rational part, knows he’s probably on a mission.

Things have been hectic. It’s almost as though Zarkon knows where they’re going to be before they do, and it’s not helping Keith’s paranoia. Lance had told him he was going on a mission, and that’s why he isn’t texting.

But the other part of Keith—the part that has Keith smiling when he receives a text from Lance no matter what, the part that keeps him up at night, feeling like he’ll never be able to sleep again without Lance next to him, the lovesick part— _knows_ there’s something wrong. He can feel it, like a twisting in his stomach.

He rubs at his eyes, dry and aching after so long staring at a computer screen. He’s useless like this, a creature of pure worry. He drops his hands and focuses back onto the screen, determined to get something done.

There’s a quiet knock on his door, and he freezes.

He doesn’t turn from the computer, shoulders wrenching tighter and tighter as the seconds pass.

“Red Paladin,” comes a voice through the door. Keith hunches further, the twisting in his stomach nearly unbearable. He wants to let them believe he’s not there. He wants to tell them that’s not his title anymore. He says, “One tick.”

He pushes back from his desk, making it as far as standing up before he’s frozen once again.

The rational part of him says he’s being called for another mission.

The other part doesn’t want to know what they’re calling him for.

There’s another knock on the door, and Keith shakes himself out of it. Stepping carefully over and hitting the panel to open it.

***

Allura’s there to meet him when he lands. No one else is.

“What’s going on?” Keith says, hopping out of the ship. Because all Kolivan had said was _“You’re needed at the Castle of Lions.”_ and the next thing Keith knew he had been halfway there, pushing his ship as fast as it could go.

“It’s…” Allura starts, voice fragile. Her eyes are slightly red-rimmed, and the tears gathering there only serve to make their colors brighter. She takes a breath, and he can see her hands shake where they’re clasped together. “I’m so sorry, Keith.”

Keith stumbles backwards, catching himself against the side of his ship. He looks down at the ground and takes a deep, choking breath. He sits for a long moment, and then he looks up.

He looks into Allura’s teary eyes, bright and beautiful. He says, “Show me.”

***

They take the blue lion down to the surface of a nearby dwarf planet.

Keith is surprised by this, but he doesn’t ask for answers. He feels in this moment that the less he knows the better. He’s shaking apart as it is.

Once landed, they take the blue speeder. The planet seems barren, lifeless. The speeder kicks up a fine white sand behind them, the plains flat for as far as the eye can see. Keith used to love this feeling. He thinks about this as the wind knocks his hood back and his hair blows freely in the wind. He’d had a hoverbike back on Earth.

He keeps his mask up, unwilling to let the wind to hit his face the way it used to.

It’s not a long ride, but time is moving weirdly for Keith. It feels like no time at all, but every move is sluggish, like slow motion. He wonders if it’s the gravitational pull of this planet. Or maybe it’s shock. Either way, he doesn’t ask.

He sees the mound well before they’ve reached it. It cuts through the horizon, huge and dark. There are deep gashes in the ground around them and large, black scorch marks across the otherwise immaculate landscape. There’s a larger shape, further in the distance, big and black, but Keith can’t seem to take his eyes off of the small one. Allura, who must have been reluctant to return, puts on a bit more speed. Keith is grateful and ungrateful. He closes his eyes.

Eventually, the speeder stops, and he feels Allura climb off. His fingers clench on the seat below him. He keeps his eyes closed.

A gentle hand rests atop his, pulling it off of the seat, and Keith takes a deep breath. He lets the mask drop, breathing in the dry air.

He climbs off of the speeder without looking up. He had asked for this, but he doesn’t feel ready. Allura slips her hand into his, and it’s comforting, but he can’t help feeling it’s not right. Her fingers are too slender, her calluses in the wrong place. Lance’s hands, they’d been warmer than this.

There’s the sound of footsteps approaching, and Keith still doesn’t look up. “Keith,” Shiro says.

Keith squeezes Allura’s hand, tight enough to hurt a human, but Allura only squeezes back. He forces himself to look up and passed the black paladin before him.

The red lion lies in a heap of metal, dusted finely in the white dirt of the desert around them. Her bright red color is dulled, deep gauges running across her flank like stripes. Her muzzle sits on the ground before him, as though she were bowing, and her yellow eyes are dark.

But Keith knows this lion, and she would bow for no one.

Shiro steps forward and into Keith’s line of sight, his expression serious. Keith keeps his eyes on the lion, unable to focus on anything else.

“Keith,” Shiro says again. “Keith, look at me.”

Keith looks for another long moment, before managing to tear his gaze away. His eyes catch on the flash of red in Shiro’s hands.

“Lance is gone, Keith,” Shiro says, holding the red bayard out to Keith. “We’re pulling you from the Blade of Marmora. Voltron needs you back.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **!! EXTRA SPOILERY WARNINGS FOR PEOPLE WHO WANT THEM !!** there is !!temporary!! character death, but be assured theres still a whole chapter of this fic to go!! 
> 
> ALSO ETA: in the nightmare scene with lance in the closet, the lack of prosthetic arm is meant as a clue towards shiro's identity, not a statement about disability. i hope no one read it that way! too many horror stories fall under that trope. i hate it.
> 
> but ohhhhh shiiit shits going down. i desperately hope this is good.
> 
> once again, thanks so much to my betas!! if u want to yell at me, do it on [tumblr](http://www.wizzardblizzard.tumblr.com) or leave a comment!! 
> 
> i love u all and as always
> 
> #LetTeamVoltronSayFuck


	2. PART TWO

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Keith takes one look at the offered bayard and shoulders past Shiro, wordless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AT LONG LAST
> 
> alright here it is, double the word length of the first part. hope u all like it!!
> 
> once again i would like to thank my beautiful beta [miraculance](https://miraculance.tumblr.com/) who was so supportive and kind and read this fucking MONSTER of a fic from another country while in the process of moving to ANOTHER country. i am forever grateful please check out her blog and her fic. i am also thankful for everyone else who was so supportive!! my friends (thank u for finally watching s3 and s4 nia) and everyone on tumblr who cheered me on (shoutout specifically to eileen threepipeproblems ur a true friend!!)! thank u so much!! thanks also to: the dnd 5e monster manual, fall out boy, john carpenter, that one scene from mullholland drive, my grad school anxiety that pushed me to focus on ANYTHING ELSE, LITERALLY ANYTHING ELSE, the RTC bus system for taking so long to take me to and from work, and, lastly, the love of my life, the google docs app on my phone. i wrote this 72k fic pretty much entirely on my phone
> 
>  **HEY MORE SPOILERY WARNINGS!! PLEASE PROCEED WITH CAUTION!!** within this part there is: WAY MORE BODY HORROR and WAY MORE VIOLENCE. there is some suicidal ideation, but no attempts are made, and nothing is mentioned explicitly. i get way grosser in this one, and i'm sorry. there is some !!! NON CONSENSUAL TOUCHING !!! later on in the fic, that is not sexual in any way but might make one feel uncomfortable. body horror warnings: shiro terminates a lot of unviable clones. this is described p explicitly. PLEASE be careful i dont want anyone to be hurt by my ramblings
> 
> anyway, let's get to the fic! if ur interested, [here is a playlist of songs i listened to/was inspired by for this fic](https://open.spotify.com/user/usernicole/playlist/2DM4MJo4fOHkp9nEvURZO2)
> 
> hope u like it!! <3

Way back when they’d only been in space for about a month, Lance had had a minor breakdown.

It hadn’t been particularly loud or dramatic, just a quiet cracking apart, like the sound of ice beneath your feet, right before you drop in.

In the time he’d been in space, he’d gone the farthest he’d ever been from home, fought monsters, big and small, been blown up, and unwittingly signed on for a lifetime of all of it. So one day he’d woken up and decided he was done.

He hadn’t gone to breakfast, despite Hunk’s cheerful announcement over the castle comms. He hadn’t gone to training, though it had Keith hammering on his door afterward complaining. He hadn’t gone to lunch, either, and he hadn’t left his room to hang out in the lounge with Hunk and Pidge, something they did nearly every day. He had ignored all members of the team stopping by, attempting to coax him out. He would not leave his room, or even his bed.

He laid there, staring at the ceiling, and remembered a movie he’d watched one time, with some friends in middle school. It had been super weird, and scary, but Lance hadn’t wanted to do anything that would have made his friends laugh at him, so he’d watched the entire thing.

There had been one scene that stuck out to him, that gave him nightmares. A girl had died on her bed of drug overdose, and no one had found her for a long time. It had been so long her skin had turned a dark gray, black juice spilling from her mouth and ears. She’d been there so long that her body had melted into the bed, face down and slowly flattening.

He had thought, back on the castleship in his dark room, that that would be how they would find him. He hadn’t wanted to die, but he hadn’t wanted to live either. He missed sunshine, and solid food, and the security that, if he wanted, he could call his mom whenever. He laid on his back, looking up at the ceiling, and thought that he would lay there until he died, and then he would melt into the bed.

He imagined as the hours passed that time outside of that room was moving much faster than it was for him. With every second another year passed, and the others were too scared to open the door, scared of finding his gross bed-body, so they didn’t. Schrodinger's Lance. He imagined a time lapse sequence of his body withering away, paling and wrinkling and yellowing. He imagined he could feel the skin of his back start to meld with the sheet below him.

Would it make a difference, if he died out in space? Either way, his family would never find a body. As it is, they probably thought he had died in the desert, slowly drying up as coyotes ate his eyes.

He stared up at the ceiling, wondering when his thoughts got so gross.

Eventually, once nearly everyone had dropped by to try and talk, Lance decided enough was enough, and went to sleep.

He was awoken some time later by the sound of his door opening.

He sat up immediately, reaching for the blue bayard lying next to his bed, and Shiro said, “Hey, hey, it’s okay. It’s me.”

He looked a little sheepish. “I’m sorry for just ...busting in,” he said. “You weren’t answering, and I was worried. I asked Coran for a temporary override code for your room.”

Lance settled down, sitting up more comfortably and pushing back against the wall. “It’s okay,” he said. There was an awkward pause. He opened his arms and gestured at himself. “I’m obviously fine, so…”

“Right,” Shiro said, but he still looked worried. “Can...Can I sit?”

Lance wanted to say no, but Shiro said he had been worried, so he gestured to the end of the bed and pulled his legs up to his chest.

Shiro sat, only a little awkwardly. Lance hadn’t bothered to turn any lights on the entire day, and it was difficult to see. “So,” Shiro said. “Everything okay?”

Lance snorted, and Shiro chuckled in return.

“Okay, obviously not,” Shiro said. “You feel like sharing what’s going on?”

Lance thought about it, resting his head back against the wall. “We’re probably gonna die out here,” he said, after a moment.

Shiro winced.

“Aren’t we?”

Shiro sighed, running a hand through the white portion of his hair. “You know, kid. I’d like to think we won’t,” he said. “I really would like to tell you we’re all going back to our families one day, but I’ve been out here a long time now, and you can’t ever really guarantee anything.”

Lance nodded, looking down at his knees.

“Is that what’s going on here?” Shiro asked. “Are you scared?”

Lance remembered watching the movie, and how he’d been so embarrassed to admit to his friends that he hadn’t liked it. It felt stupid to him now. “Obviously,” Lance said, scoffing.

“Right,” Shiro said. He looked forward and away from Lance.

There was a moment of awkward silence, then Lance said, “You said once, before all of this, that you thought going to space was the right thing to do. You said it felt right, and that you always try to do what’s right.”

Shiro paused for a moment, shocked, before nodding. “I guess that interview didn’t really age well, huh?” he said, wryly.

“So do you still? Feel that it was the right thing to do, that is.”

Shiro didn’t say anything for a long time, studying the wall across from him. “I don’t know,” he said eventually. “Of course, I never imagined all of this would happen, that me and Holts would…” He paused, swallowing. “A lot of bad stuff has happened,” he said. “A lot of really, truly awful things. But at that moment, when they offered me the position as pilot for the Kerberos mission, it felt like the right thing to say yes. So I did.”

“And I knew then, that it was dangerous. I didn’t really know _how_ dangerous, of course.” He laughed. “But all the same, it felt right, at that time. Sometimes, you have to go with your gut, even though it’s scary, or you know that something bad could happen.” He looked at Lance. “What’s your gut telling you, right now?”

Lance didn’t say anything for a moment, thinking. “It’s saying that I’m a paladin of Voltron,” he answered, “and that I’m doing the right thing. My head though…” He tapped a finger against it. “My head is telling me I’m a fucking idiot, and that I’m going to die before I ever get to see the next _Star Wars_ movie.”

“Yeah,” Shiro said. “That’s the way it goes, sometimes.”

They fell into a comfortable silence. Lance took a deep breath, adjusting to sit cross-legged on the bed and dragging his pillow over his lap. He felt a bit lighter, and a little grimy from laying in bed all day.

“So you think you’re up to joining us again, tomorrow?” Shiro asked.

Lance shrugged, wrinkling his nose. “Keith’ll probably have an aneurysm if I miss his beloved training again,” he said.

“Yeah, probably,” Shiro said, smiling. He got up, shoving his hands into his pockets and turning to face Lance. “So, you’re good?”

“As good as I’ll ever be, I guess,” Lance said. Shiro nodded, and started making his way to the door. “Wait, Shiro,” Lance said

Shiro turned back to him, eyebrow raised.

“What do you miss most?” Lance asked, clasping his hands on top of the pillow in his lap. “About Earth, I mean.”

Shiro looked surprised by the question, but answered almost immediately. “My dog,” he said. “And Dunkin Donuts coffee. And the idea that traveling to space and seeing the stars is something fun and new and exciting.”

“Cool,” Lance said. “I miss garlic knots.”

Shiro threw his head back and laughed.

***

Keith takes one look at the offered bayard and shoulders past Shiro, wordless.

***

Matt catches Pidge as she trips down the exit ramp of the green lion, smothering her sobs against his chest. He hugs her tight, willing that the pain she’s feeling would transfer to him through osmosis.

She’s talking, but he can barely understand her through the tears. He says, “Shhh, Pidge, it’s okay. I’m here. It’ll be okay.”

He tries to walk them out of there, to take her to the lounge, or to her room to be more comfortable, but she’s not in a good state, and he’s picking her up soon enough. He sits them down on the ramp, cradling her on his lap as she cries.

“Pidge,” he says. “Pidge, tell me what happened.” He knows exactly what happened, has known since she comm’d him from her lion, but he needs it confirmed. He presses his cheek to the top of her head, feeling so, so guilty. “Katie, is it Lance?”

“Pidge?” a voice says, and Matt looks up at Hunk, standing motionless in the doorway.

“Hunk–” Matt starts, but he’s interrupted by Pidge unfurling in his arms, turning to her friend.

“ _Hunk_ ,” she says, and her voice cracks unpleasantly. Tears fall from her eyes unbidden. She’s so young, and Matt spares a moment to let his hatred for what has happened to her fester. She says, “Hunk, it’s Lance.”

“What?” Hunk says, stepping back. “What’s going on? Where is he? What are you talking about?” His voice gets progressively louder as he talks, breath coming quicker.

Pidge curls forward, hands shaking as she struggles to say the words. “Allura is still down there. We found Red and...and there was so much blood. Hunk, Hunk he’s–”

“No _,”_ Hunk says, shaking his head. Big tears are welling up in his eyes. _“No,_ he’s–”

“I _saw it_ ,” Pidge says. “Red is, she’s just _totaled._ He’s...there’s no way…”

“ _No!”_ Hunk yells, and his voice breaks. He clasps his hands together. “No, he can’t. Why are you–? He...I can’t…” He starts to take huge, heaving breaths, and Matt stands.

“Hunk,” Matt says. “Hunk, you have to calm down for me, buddy. Can you do that?”

“ _No_ ,” he moans, dropping against the doorway to the hangar, and then to his knees. “No, I can’t. I can’t. _Lance_.”

Matt skids to his knees in front of him, resting his hands on Hunk’s shoulders. They’re shuddering with the combination of panicked breathing and heartbreaking sobs. “Hunk, please buddy, you’re going to pass out. Breathe with me, please, buddy. Listen, in two out two–”

“No, no, no,” Hunk wheezes, but after a moment he complies. Matt feels Pidge kneel next to him, reaching forward to grab her friend’s hand. “No, please, Lance,” Hunk says, once his breathing has calmed. He looks at Pidge. “Pidge, _please.”_

She freezes, fresh tears spilling over. She sits back on her legs, wringing her hands together and shaking her head.

Hunk buries his face in his knees and wails.

Matt wraps one arm around Hunk’s wide shoulders, allowing Pidge to burrow under his other one, and through all of his attempts at comforting them wonders if this is all worth it.

***

_Laying low and staying out of Shiro’s way lasts a good ten days. Lance is honestly proud of himself._

_The mission briefing isn’t going well._

_Lance waits and waits for someone else to say something, anything, as the plan is laid out before them. He watches the others’ faces, catching onto the worry they’re feeling, but no one says anything._

_He sighs, mentally apologizing to Keith, and says, “This plan blows.”_

_Every head in the room turns to him, and he crosses his arms. Matt is giving him an exasperated look._

_“Helpful, Lance,” Pidge says sarcastically._

_He shrugs. “I call it like I see it.”_

_“And what exactly is it about the plan that...blows?” Allura asks, though she looks hesitant. “I’ll have you know we’ve thought through every possible option.”_

_“Yeah, and there aren’t that many,” Lance says, “because we don’t know_ anything _about what we’re getting into.”_

 _“Lance is right,” Hunk says. “You want us to go to this planet that_ might _be important to the Galra, but we don’t know how or why or even what’s down there.”_

_“I’ve been picking up mentions of it for weeks now on our scanners,” Pidge says. “There’s something going on there.”_

_“But we don’t know what,” Lance says. “And you want to send one of us down there, with no backup–”_

_“It’s a scouting mission,” Shiro says._

_“It’s still risky,” Lance says. “We don’t have enough information, we could be walking into a trap.”_

_“This could be an opportunity to get one up on the Galra,” Allura says. “We need to know what they’re doing. It could be important.”_

_“Look, no offense,” Lance says. “But who’s to say the Galra have no idea that we’re monitoring their transmissions?” He glances at Matt. “What if they’re baiting us?”_

_Pidge scoffs. “My trackers are untraceable,” she says._

_“Nothing’s untraceable,” Lance says._

_“Enough,” Shiro says. “We’ve already made a decision. One of you will go down and find out what’s going on.”_

_“Which one of us is going?” Hunk asks. “Because, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Yellow’s not exactly stealthy.”_

_“Pidge,” Shiro says. Pidge straightens in her seat. “The green lion is small, and the only one with cloaking technology–”_

_“_ No _,” Lance blurts out. Everyone is looking at him again. He looks at Matt, whose jaw is clenched. “No, I mean. Pidge is working on that important project with Hunk, right? The one so we can track Haggar’s corrupted quintessence? I’ll go. I have nothing better to do.”_

_“The red lion isn’t equipped with cloaking technology,” Shiro says._

_“But she’s the closest in size and build to Green, so it would be pretty easy to give her that capability. Right, Pidge?” Pidge looks hesitant, but nods. “And Red’s also the fastest, so if things get hairy down there it’ll be no problem getting away.”_

_Allura places her hand under her chin. “Aside from Pidge, Lance probably is the best equipped for a stealth mission,” she says._

_“I thought you didn’t want anyone to go in the first place?” Hunk asks, narrowing his eyes at Lance._

_Lance takes a shuddering breath, turning to smile cheekily at Hunk. “I still think it’s risky,” he says. “But if we’re going to go through with it, it might as well be me. You know I’ll get the job done.” He sends Hunk a finger gun and a wink, and everyone else rolls their eyes._

_Shiro sighs, but he doesn’t look too put off by the idea. He actually looks worryingly pleased about it. “Well then, Pidge better get on with upgrading the red lion. Lance, I want you off as soon as she’s done. We’re done here.”_

_They all start to leave, but Lance can’t find it in him to leave his seat. The plan is bad, he knows this. It’s going to go wrong. He’s condemned himself. His legs feel weak._

_He’s shaken out of his daze by a hand clamped on his shoulder, and he looks up into a pair of angry brown eyes._

_“We need to talk,” Matt says._

_***_

No one stops Keith as he goes, and he doesn’t look back. Red looms above him, casting him in shadow, and he doesn’t hesitate before lifting his arms and climbing her broken body.

He reaches the cockpit and thinks, briefly, of activating the emergency door, before stepping in through a large hole in her side.

The smell hits him first, and he nearly activates his mask again. But he doesn’t, he needs to experience this fully.

A lot of people like to compare the smell of blood to copper, or some other kind of metal. Keith’s been around it enough times to know it just smells like blood.

There is a pool of it under the pilot seat, dark and sticky and mostly dried. It’s smeared from there to the opening Keith just walked through. There’s a dead Galra soldier lying in the corner, two blaster shots in his chest. Keith thinks of the last time he’d been in this lion, then banishes the thought from his mind.

He can’t seem to tear his eyes away from the smear underneath his feet, almost as though Lance had been dragged. He hadn’t gone down without a fight, as evidenced by the body on the floor.

There’s nothing left of Lance but the blood. There’s no body. Keith stares, shifting from foot to foot. His boots squelch nastily under him.

He says, “Where’s the body?”

Then, he’s turning, climbing down from the lion so quickly he’s basically falling, landing awkwardly on his ankles. He doesn’t even feel it, striding purposefully towards Shiro and Allura. They look like they’re having a quiet argument, but they stop when they see him, turning in unison in his direction. Allura says his name, soft and sorry. Keith ignores her.

“Where’s the body?” he asks, looking at Shiro. “Did you move it? Take it somewhere? Where is it?”

Shiro looks down at him, face solemn. It’s so fucking fake, Keith can’t take it. His brother wouldn’t be this composed, this disconnected. “Keith,” Shiro says. “Listen–”

“I asked a question.”

“There was no body,” Allura says. “Just the red lion and...and the blood.”

“No body,” Keith says, half laughing. “You bring me out here and you...you try to _replace_ him, and you don’t even know if he’s dead?”

“I shouldn’t have pushed that on you,” Shiro says, rushed. “It wasn’t–”

“There’s _no body,”_ Keith says slowly, voice trembling. His whole body is shaking.

“Keith,” Allura says, stepping closer to him. “This isn’t something we say lightly. The amount of blood...Lance is...Lance was–”

“ _He’s not there!”_ Keith gives in and yells. “You stand there and tell me he’s dead, speak about him in the past tense. You don’t even have a body count!”

“Keith, you’re not being rational,” Shiro says. “Look at the red lion, what do you think happened?”

“What _did_ happen? Why was he here alone?” Keith says. “How did you let this happen?”

“Why don’t we talk about this back at the castle?” Allura says. “We’ll explain everything then. We’re vulnerable here, out in the open. We need to bring the red lion back for repairs.”

“It was a scouting mission,” Shiro says. “There was no reason for him to engage.”

“I’d say there was a reason!” Keith yells, gesturing at the lion. “He should have had backup regardless! That’s how we operate!”

“Keith, it’s war. We don’t have–”

“ _Fuck you.”_ Keith steps forward and shoves at Shiro’s chest. “I’m not asking for a fucking lecture. I’m asking why Lance,” he chokes on the name, “was here alone. Why he had to fight off Galra soldiers, alone. Why he’s alone now, wherever he is.”

“Keith, I know it’s hard but you need to accept that Lance is–”

“ _No,”_ Keith yells. “You’re just...just giving up on him. There’s no fucking body.”

“Keith,” Allura starts, tears in her eyes.

“So what do you think happened, Keith?” Shiro asks, showing the first signs of irritation. “What happened to Lance, a paladin of Voltron, after he was severely injured and taken?”

“I don’t know, what happened to _you?”_ Keith says. “What happened when you were captured? What did they do that turned you into _this_? This cold, unfeeling monster?”

“I’m your _brother_ ,” Shiro says.

“My brother wouldn’t be like this!”

“Shiro, Keith, please,” Allura says. “This isn’t...we need–”

“I know you cared about Lance,” Shiro says calmly. “I know, Keith, and I’m so sorry. But you’re being–”

“You don’t know _anything_ about what I feel about Lance,” Keith says, voice breaking. “If you did, you wouldn’t be standing here, telling me to stop fighting for him. I won’t.” He clenches his fists, shoulders shaking. “You want me to fly Red again? To come back to Voltron? Show me a fucking body. I’m going to find him. I won’t stop looking until I have him here with me.” He steps back, turning to head back for Allura’s speeder.

“Keith,” Shiro starts, grabbing Keith’s shoulder, and in a flash Keith had his knife activated and pressed to Shiro’s throat.

Allura gasps. The two of them ignore her, staring each other down. “Keith, cease this at _once_ ,” she says.

Keith watches Shiro’s face. He watches as Shiro’s features harden, lips downturning and eyebrows furrowing. He watches as Shiro–beloved Shiro, kind and caring and the first person to ever give a shit about Keith–changes into something dark and ugly. Shiro lets him go.

Keith deactivates his blade and heads toward the speeder, desperate to get away, out from under the shadow of the dead lion and Shiro’s dark, unfamiliar eyes. Allura follows him, looking at him from the side with a concerned expression.

“Keith,” she says softly, stopping him before he can get on the speeder. She places a hand on his forearm. “I understand that you’re hurting, we all are. I can’t,” she stops, closing her eyes. “I can’t tell you how difficult this is, knowing that I helped in sending him down here. But it isn’t Shiro’s fault. It’s no one’s fault but the Galra who did this.” She slides her hand down his arm to grab his hand, holding tight.

“We know, because Lance helped teach us, that the only way we will get through this is to stay together, to pull each other through. “ Her grip on his hand is tight to the point of pain and Keith welcomes it, squeezing back. She reaches up with her other hand, pressing the tips of her fingers to his cheek and turning his face to look at her. “Keith, he’s your brother.”

Keith takes a breath, looking down at the seat of the speeder. “Tell me something,” he says, looking back up and into Allura’s eyes. “Did Lance want to go on this mission? was he okay with it?”

Allura bites her lip, blinking away a wave of fresh tears.

“No,” she says, after a long moment. “No he didn’t. He said it was too risky.”

Keith doesn’t respond for a long time, and when he does he says, “That’s not my brother. If any of you had thought to listen to Lance sooner, you’d know.”

He drops her hand, throwing a leg over the speeder and waiting for her to get on.

***

_Lance had been hoping for a lot more time, but the best laid plans of space mice and men, and all that._

_The conversation between him and Matt is brief and vaguely panicked. Lance sets off right afterwards, wringing his hands._

_The thing about this plan is that it blows just as much as the bullshit one Shiro is sending him off on. There are a lot more variables than Lance is usually comfortable with. Lance likes simple plans with happy endings. Get in, get out, get a parade afterwards. This plan is more like get in, get more in. get_ way _in, like_ so _deep in the shit, pray to get out, get whatever the opposite of a parade is._

_Lance wonders if the opposite of a parade is a funeral procession._

_He has limited time, so he doesn’t bother changing into his armor before navigating the winding halls of the castle. He passes a few people, various members of the rebellion who look at him funny when he doesn’t offer them a cheery wave or a happy hello like he usually does. He knows he’s being weird, but he’s too worried about other things to spare any thought to his apparent rudeness._

_He wishes that Keith was there, that he could talk to him and get his opinion, but Matt had convinced him against it._

_“He’s not going to like it,” Matt had said, raising placating hands when Lance immediately protested. “Look, I know, I_ know _but it needs to be completely secret. The less people know, the better. Shiro_ cannot _find out. This whole plan rides on Shiro not knowing.”_

_“Keith, he’s,” Lance bit his lip. “Matt, I don’t know what he’s going to do.”_

_“Leave that to me,” Matt said. “I’ll make sure he stays in line. You need to focus on the plan.”_

_Lance hits the button for the elevator, then hits it like seven more times out of nervousness. All this secret stuff is not as fun as they made it look in spy movies, it’s stressful and sad. Lance pulls the hood of his jacket over his head, then takes it off again._

_“Oh, hey Lance!”_

_Lance jumps, hunching further into his hoodie. “Hey Hunk,” he says, smiling weakly at his friend._

_“What’s up? Shouldn’t you be getting ready to go?” Hunk asks. He doesn’t wait for an answer. “Oh man, you should head to Red's hangar after this. Pidge is trying to modify her, and she’s not having it. It’s hilarious.”_

_Lance laughs a little, smile widening. “Yeah, man, I gotta do something first. I’ll be there in a little bit.”_

_“Cool,” Hunk says. “I gotta get back, just had to leave and find a part in Pidge’s pigsty of a room. I don’t know how she doesn’t have tetanus.”_

_“Space tetanus,” Lance says. Then, swallowing, he says, “Hey, Hunk, you know you’re my best friend, right?”_

_Hunk snorts. “Of course I do, who else would have been willing to join an interpretive dance troupe with you to impress Cindy Mendoza in physics?”_

_“Hey, that was a good idea!” Lance said. “We learned how to unlock our body’s true potential.”_

_“More like I learned how to unlock what it feels like to be embarrassed for two hours a week,” Hunk says. He starts walking, heading ostensibly for the red lion’s hangar, but stops after a few steps. “You know your mine, too?” he says. “My best friend, I mean.”_

_“Oh, of course,” Lance says. The elevator opens in front of him. “I’ve mopped up an entire color spectrum of barf for you, my dude. We’re friends for life.”_

_Hunk laughs, waving him off as Lance steps into the elevator. “I’ll see you in a little bit, buddy.”_

_“For sure,” Lance says, reaching over to hit the button for his destination. He watches Hunk walk away as the doors close, and feels his smile drop._

_The path he takes is second nature to him, after so long. He navigates the halls on autopilot, thinking of everything that could go wrong. When he arrives, the rebel on guard duty gives him a questioning look._

_“Matt needs you for something,” Lance says, jerking a thumb over his shoulder. “I’m here to keep watch while you’re gone.”_

_The rebel, obviously bored out of their mind, nods eagerly, tentacles flapping, and soon enough Lance is alone. Well, almost._

_He turns to the cell. Lotor’s eyes are open and eyeing him, but he doesn’t look suspicious. He looks like he expected this to happen eventually._

_“Okay, Lotor,” Lance says, shoving his hands into his hoodie pockets. “You wanted to talk, so here’s your chance. I need information, and I need it fast.”_

_Lotor’s face breaks into a wide grin._

_***_

People always think that Hunk and Lance have been friends since they were little kids, but that’s not really the case.

Sure, Hunk feels that way now. The Garrison seems like it happened a hundred years ago, and when he thinks back of the Hunk at that time, yeah, he seems like a little kid. Hunk’s been fighting a war for over a year now, he hasn’t seen his moms in almost two. Up in space, there’s nothing to indulge in the kiddish side of him. There’s no sugary cereal, or Saturday morning cartoons. When Hunk gets up in the morning, his back aches. He hasn’t felt like a little kid in a long time.

To be fair, he hadn’t felt like a little kid at the Garrison either. He’d felt grownup and independent and just a little brave, for the first time in his life. He was away from home.

Lance at that time had felt, to him, like a little kid. Lance had shown up in their shared room freshman year with his voice unbroken, skinny as anything. He was always drinking milk and doing random exercises from the internet to bulk up. He did all of his homework at the last minute. He called his mom every night before bed. He had cried himself to sleep the first two weeks of school.

In comparison, Hunk had felt like he had his shit together. He didn’t cry after the initial plane ride, and only got a little teary when he skyped his moms. He was caught up on all his homework and had a clear direction. He had been doing very well, all things considered.

Things had been pretty awkward at first. Lance was used to sharing a room, and _very_ sociable. Hunk was an only child, and shy. After the first month or so, Hunk had gotten used to Lance talking at him, spinning around in his desk chair or laying with his head hanging upside down off of his bunk. “Did you do the fucking English homework? How the fuck do they expect me to read that fucking book if English isn’t my first language?” and “What the fuck is an inertia?” and “Do you think Cindy Mendoza/Jeffrey Simpson/Mrs. Peterson/Patrick Martin would fuck me? Are they particularly fuckable to you, Hunk?”

(Fifteen year old Lance _maybe_ had been going through a phase where he realized there wasn’t anyone around to punish him for cursing, and was taking full advantage.)

Hunk had dealt with those “conversations” the best way he knew how, which was to almost completely ignore them and let out the occasional “uh huh.” This had worked for a while. And, then–

“Hey, are you okay?”

Hunk, who had been sitting hunched over his desk, found himself unable to look away from his calculus homework.

“Uh huh,” he said, blankly.

“Okay,” Lance had said, creeping carefully to Hunk’s side of the room. “Are you...sure about that?”

Hunk blinked. “Uh huh.”

“Cool,” Lance said. “Because you don’t...look like you are.”

Hunk nodded, the page blurring in front of him. He rubbed one wrist over his eyes.

“Okay,” Lance said again, shoving his hands into the pockets of his pajama pants. “Calculus, huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Must be pretty hard.”

Hunk nodded again. His chest felt tight, like his heart had stopped working. Oh, god, that wasn’t going to happen, right? He was too young for that. Could that happen? Could fourteen year olds have their heart stop because of math? “Yeah,” Hunk said, voice cracking. “It’s really hard.”

Then he took a deep breath, and was unable to take another one.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Lance said, waving his hands in Hunk’s face when he started hyperventilating. “Okay, oh, uh. Hunk? Okay.” He shoved Hunk’s homework off of the desk, book and all. “Look, it’s gone? No, that doesn’t help, fuck. Is this a panic attack?”

Hunk shook his head, then started nodding frantically.

“Ohhhh fuck, okay,” Lance said. He grabbed his hair, then put his hands on Hunk’s shoulder. “I’m gonna google.”

He flew away from Hunk, diving to grab his phone off of his bunk. Hunk closed his eyes, trying to remember what his family doctor had told him. He was supposed to count?  Count what, his breaths? How long he exhales? The thought of counting just reminded him of his homework, which brought on a new wave of panic, and his breath hitched.

“It’s okay, it’s okay,” Lance was saying, nose to his phone. “I’ll...I’ll find something, dude. Don’t worry.”

Hunk nodded, still sat in his desk chair. Tears were streaming down his cheeks and down his neck, soaking the collar of his pajama shirt. He was starting to feel lightheaded.

“Okay, okay, okay,” Lance said. He reappeared next to Hunk, ducking to give him a quick hug and then scrolling through his phone. “So I need you to breathe with me, buddy. We’re gonna count, but good counting. Not calculus. Fuck calculus.”

Then, they did. Lance helped him breathe, holding his hands and counting loud and clear. They counted until Hunk could take deep breaths again, stuttering through his sobs and collapsing against Lance’s tiny chest.

“You’re okay, Hunk,” Lance sniffled. He patted Hunk’s back, squeezing his arms around Hunk’s shoulders. “You’re fine. See? Piece of cake. You’re great, you’re perfect.”

“It’s just-just-just...so _hard_ ,” Hunk sobbed into Lance’s shoulder. “It’s never been this hard, and I hate it, and I miss my moms, and–”

“I know,” Lance said soothingly. “I know, dude. It’s okay. I’m sorry.”

“I _hate it_ here,” Hunk said. “I...There’s never any breaks. I just want a break.”

“You’re going to get one,” Lance said. “You can’t burn yourself out like this, man. I’ll help you. We’re gonna just...chill tomorrow. It’s Saturday. We’re gonna chill so hard, like you never have before.”

“But, calculus–”

“What did I say about calculus?”

“Fuck calculus.”

“Good, you’re learning.”

Hunk knows that, if you ask Lance, he’ll tell you it was love at first sight. He saw Hunk and _knew_ they’d be best friends for life. They were joined at the hip, two hearts, one soul. But if you ask Hunk, they started being real friends that night, when Lance talked Hunk out of that hellish feeling. After that, Lance had sat Hunk down on his bunk and pestered him into facetiming his moms, quietly leaving when Hunk burst into tears at the sight of his mama’s cheery face. And the next day they had relaxed, watching movies on Hunk’s laptop and arguing about what the best pizza toppings were. Every time Hunk had even thought about homework, Lance somehow knew and tackle-hugged him out of it.

Lance taught Hunk how to relax. He taught Hunk that you don’t need to be a fourteen year old prodigy to be smart. He taught Hunk to take time for himself, that new people aren’t something to be afraid of. He taught Hunk that it’s okay to break _some_ rules, and that sometimes, Hunk’s snarky comments can come across as super mean. Hunk hasn’t known Lance his entire life, but it’s almost as though his life hadn’t really started until he met Lance.

Hunk doesn’t go places without Lance. He hadn’t followed Pidge to the desert that night (though he does love her). Sitting on the floor of Lance’s room on the castleship, clutching a green hoodie in his hands, Hunk feels untethered.

 _It's just too hard_ , he thinks, apropos of nothing. He doesn’t know what to do with this pain, the shredded feeling in his chest. He’s never lost anyone close to him before. He wishes he could talk to his mom. He wishes he could talk to _Lance._

He looks around the room, at Lance’s stuff thrown haphazardly everywhere. He remembers their room at the Garrison in freshman year, and how there had been a neat line down the center of the room where Lance’s piles of garbage ended and Hunk’s tidy portion of the room began. He remembers coming back sophomore year to a Lance with broader shoulders and a deeper voice, struggling to lug a duffle bag of skin and haircare products into their shared bathroom.

He wonders what they’ll do with Lance’s stuff. It doesn’t feel right to just...leave it. But it doesn’t feel right to use it either. He rubs his eyes, wincing a the rubbed raw pain of them.

Lance hadn’t wanted to go. He hadn’t wanted any of them to go. Hunk knows people underestimate Lance. He knows Lance is good with stuff like that, with planning and strategy. He should have had Lance’s back.

Hunk’s thoughts are a never ending cycle of hurt, of memories and should-haves and what-will-I-do’s. It’s dinnertime, but Hunk’s not hungry. This isn’t the kind of pain that cooking and food can fix, and Hunk’s never felt a pain like that before.

He’s wondering if the others will be expecting him to cook, and thinks they probably won’t. But then he wonders if anyone will bother to eat if he doesn’t, and gets worried. He can’t seem to make his legs move, though, tired beyond all belief.

Keith finds him still sitting on the floor.

He storms in, looking murderous. Hunk remembers that one of the five stages of grief is anger, and then thinks that all of Keith’s stages of grief are probably anger.

“Uh,” Hunk says, and it comes out as a croak. Keith whirls to face him, knife in hand, and Hunk weakly raises his hands in surrender.

“Oh, oh god, Hunk,” Keith says, dropping his arms. He looks around. “Am I...did I walk into the wrong room?”

Hunk shakes his head, and Keith’s eyes land on the jacket in his hands, narrowing.

“I just,” Hunk starts, clenching his hands against the fabric. “I. This sounds weird, but this felt like...the safest place.” Keith doesn’t say anything, just keeps looking at Hunk. “Like, me and Lance, we didn’t really hang out in here much. It was always in the lounge or...or in the kitchen. And he would sit in the kitchen counters and it would piss me off but I would let him because I was used to it.” He can feel himself start to babble, but he’s powerless against it. Keith’s face is soft now, hands hanging limp at his sides. “Or he’d sit with me while I worked, or we’d both sit with Pidge. Or we’d be training. But we never went to each other’s rooms, really.” He feels tears building up in his eyes, stinging the scraped skin. “I think we were glad to have our own room for the first time in like, four years. But now, I. Now he. He’s _everywhere_ else. This whole fucking castle he’s...he’s there but he’s not so I hacked the lock on his door and I guess this is kind of your room too and I didn’t think about that and I’m _sorry_ –”

“ _Hunk_ ,” Keith says, scrambling to kneel in front of him. Hunk is starting to feel his lungs seize up in his chest again, so he takes deep, slow breaths. Keith nods in front of him, hands hovering like he doesn’t know if he’s allowed to touch. “Hunk, you’re fine. I was just...I was just surprised. Of course you’re welcome in here, buddy. Of course you are.”

Hunk nods at him, still catching his breath. “So they...they told you,” he says. He had been wondering who would be the one to contact Keith. Lord knows Hunk hadn’t been brave enough.

The dark look is back on Keith’s face. “Yeah, they did.” He doesn’t say anything else, just moves to sit next to Hunk, back to Lance’s bed and pressed against Hunk’s side. “Was that...just now...was that almost a panic attack?” he asks, out of nowhere.

Hunk blinks, then nods. “Yeah,” he says. “I have those sometimes. Twice, today.”

Keith nods. “Yeah,” he says. “You know Lance talked me out of one, once?”

Hunk turns to look at Keith, who stays looking resolutely at the wall across from him. “No,” Hunk says. “He never told me.”

“He did,” Keith says. “Last year. All the Blade stuff I just...I got overwhelmed. I woke up in the middle of the night and I couldn’t breathe. I didn’t even think about it, I just picked up the phone and called him.”

Keith scrubs his hands through his hair. “He’s just...he always knows what to do,” Keith says. “He knew then. He talked me down, helped me breathe. He said he knew what to do because of you.”

A sob bursts from Hunk’s throat, and he covers his mouth with one hand, clutching the jacket to his chest with the other.

“The first time, he had to google it,” Hunk says after he’s composed himself. “I was sitting there hyperventilating, and he was on, like, wikihow.” He laughs, and it sounds nasty and wet through his crying. “He barely knew me.”

Keith rubs a shaking hand down his face, eyes suspiciously wet. He says, “I should have been here.”

“Keith, no–”

“No,” Keith says. “You don’t know. Hunk, did you go down to see Red?”

Hunk feels his stomach churn. “No,” he says. “Matt offered to take me down but I...I didn’t think I could…”

“Hunk,” Keith interrupts him. “Hunk, did you see Lance? Did you see a body?”

Hunk chokes on a sob. “No, no. Of course not. Why would I want–”

“You didn’t see a body,” Keith says, turning to face Hunk, “because there _isn’t one_. He isn’t there. And if he isn’t there, where is he?”

A thousand awful, frightening, revolting ideas flash through Hunk’s head.

“No, Hunk, _listen_ ,” Keith says, seeming to understand right where Hunk’s mind went. “I refuse. I refuse to believe he’s dead until I see it with my own eyes, Hunk. Do you understand that?”

“Keith,” Hunk says. “Keith, if he isn’t then...then…” Then probably a hundred horrible things are happening to him, then he probably will be dead soon.

“ _No, Hunk!”_ Keith says. “I’m not...we can’t _give up_ on him! Would he give up on us?”

Hunk shakes his head. Lance wouldn’t.

“Then we won’t either,” Keith says. “I’m going to find him, Hunk. I swear. But first.”

He stands up, turning to Hunk and holding out a hand to help him up. Hunk takes it, confused.

“First what?” Hunk asks, thankful to have someone here who knows what to do, to help him navigate this hellscape he’s managed to fall into.

“First, we’re going to talk to Matt,” Keith says, darkly. “There’s a lot you need to know.”

Hunk nods. Matt had taken Pidge back to her room after she fell asleep crying against his shoulder. He should still be there. Hunk looks down at the jacket in his hands, dotted with tears and wrinkled from Hunk’s nervous wringing, and holds it out to Keith.

Keith looks at it hesitantly, as though scared of breaking it. “Are you...are you sure?” he asks.

Hunk shrugs. “It doesn’t fit me,” he says. “When,” he takes a deep breath, throwing every ounce of his faith into his next words, “when we find him, he’ll probably say something gross about hot you look in his clothes.”

Keith huffs out a laugh, eyes bright, and takes the hoodie from Hunk. He puts it on over his Marmora uniform and bunches the ends of the too-long sleeves in his hands. “Right,” he says, blinking hard. He shakes himself out of it. “Right. Let’s go see Matt.”

“Right,” Hunk says back, and they head out of Lance’s room. “And after we see Matt, what are we going to do exactly?”

Keith turns to him with a small, devious smile on his face. “We’re going to plan a mutiny.”

***

_The red lion’s hangar is still ringing with random bangs and clattering when Lance arrives, clad in his armor._

_“You doing okay there, Pidge?” he calls._

_“I am_ never _ever going to modify your stupid lion again!” she yells from somewhere in the depths of Red’s underbelly. “_ Ow! _She fucking shocked me!”_

_“She doesn’t appreciate name-calling,” Lance says. “She’s a queen and she demands respect.”_

_“She’s a_ dick _,” Pidge says, dropping from the lion. She eyes him, all suited up. “You ready to go?”_

_“Born ready.” He reaches forward to ruffle her hair. “Thanks, Pidge.”_

_She ducks away, batting at his hands. “Whatever,” she says. “Now I can go back to my project.”_

_He rolls his eyes. “Okay, nerd,” he says._

_“You know the coordinates?”_

_“‘Course.”_

_Pidge raises her arms over her head, stretching and yawning. “Well, I better get back to it,” she says. “Good luck, Lance.”_

_She moves passed him, heading back to her lab, but she’s stopped by a hand on her shoulder._

_“Hey, Pidge,” he says. “Hold on a minute, would you?”_

_“What is it?” she asks, blinking up at him. Lance bites his lip._

_“Just, be careful, okay?” he says. “Keep an eye out. You never...you never know. And watch out for Hunk, too.”_

_She raises an eyebrow at him. “What is this,_ The Days of Our Lives? _” she asks, before smiling at him. “Of course, Lance. Me and Hunk actually paid attention to the lab safety rules.”_

_Lance groans. “You have to use the science lab eye cleaner once or twice or three times and they never let you forget it,” he says, and then he smiles. “I’ll see you later, Pidge.”_

_“See ya, Lance,” Pidge says, and then turns to walk away._

_When she’s gone, Lance heaves a deep sigh._

_“They’ll be okay,” Lance says. “Matt’s here. It’ll be fine.”_

_He doesn’t feel fine though, and the red lion notices. She turns to face him, ducking her head to his level. He presses his forehead to her nose, taking deep breaths._

_“Well,” he says. “Let’s get going, Gorgeous.”_

_***_

Pidge has lost loved ones before, obviously.

As a little kid, she had lost her last surviving grandparent, the only one she ever knew. In the fifth grade, her dog Gunther had been hit by a car while she was at school. Only a couple of years later, her dad and brother had disappeared.

She’s no stranger to loss in all its forms. She maybe grew to thinking that she was sort of used to it, as time passed. She’d already felt the worst of it, with Matt and her dad, so she knew what to expect the next time.

She’s not accustomed to being wrong.

She doesn’t know why she feels so empty, losing Lance. It’s never felt like this before. She fidgets, lying in her bed and staring up at the ceiling. She’d fallen asleep, and she guesses Matt had taken her back to her room. She knows he worries, because she’s really young and being in space is really dangerous. A few years ago this treatment would have annoyed her. She’s always hated being treated like a baby. Now, though, she knows what it’s like to not have that, to lose that big brother worry. She basks in the light of his affection and is warmed.

Maybe it’s because she was the one who was meant to go on that mission, not Lance. Maybe this feeling is guilt. She’s going to go through the rest of her life knowing one of her best friends died in her place.

Or maybe it’s that his death was so...physical. Blatant. She’d gone down with Allura after Lance hadn’t answered their comms and had found the red lion, had seen the blood.

Back on Earth, she’d had a bad habit of imagining what exactly had happened to her family, out in space. She could picture, with perfect clarity, the state of them. The thick layer of frost over their plump, bloated bodies. She watched, in her mind's eye, as they struggled to breathe, exhaling as soon as they were exposed to the dark expanse of space. They would have lasted about two minutes before their lungs exploded in their chests.

But even then, with those awful images in her head, Pidge would never know, never see. Her family’s bodies would float, mummified, for thousands if not millions of years, and yet there was nothing for her and her mom to bury. There were only the nightmares, and the lies fed to them by the Garrison.

Flying down and seeing Lance’s blood, his broken lion, had been closure she’d never before experienced. She didn’t need to imagine it, she had a totaled lion and an almost unrealistic amount of blood to paint the picture for her.

She turns over, curling up to face the wall. She can’t get it out of her mind, the sight, the smell. The sound of her own scream, the feeling of Allura’s strong arms, pulling her away from the wreckage. She closes her eyes, wrapping her arms around her face.

There’s a muffled sound from right outside her room, almost like a yell.

She sits up, looking around the room. Matt is gone, probably to help Hunk. There’s more noise. There are people having a conversation outside her door, and she lets herself be silently annoyed at them. How dare they go on with their lives, while she sits in here wallowing? Don’t they _know?_

She stands, ready to go and shoo them away, but when she gets to the door she’s surprised to hear what sounds like Matt, and Keith. She presses her ear to the door.

“Look, I don’t _care_ anymore,” Keith snarls. “This has gone on long enough, something needs to be done _now_.”

“You know it’s not that simple,” Matt says. “This is bigger than us, this can affect the coalition. We can’t let the Galra catch on to any instability in our ranks. We’re weak enough as it is.”

“None of that matters,” Keith says. Pidge blinks, surprised. Keith never puts his own needs over that of the coalition. “The longer we wait, the longer Lance is out there. The longer Shiro has to destroy the rest of Voltron.”

“And what if you’re wrong?” Matt says. “What if Lance isn’t captured, but dead? You would be putting everything in jeopardy for nothing–”

“Lance is _not_ nothing–”

“ _Guys_ **_,_ ** ” another voice says, and Pidge pulls back from the door. Hunk? “Please, let’s just...what is going on? What do you mean Shiro is going to destroy Voltron?”

Keith ignores him. “Lance isn’t dead,” he says. “Until I have him here with me, body in my arms...” He takes a hitching breath. “Until then, I won’t stop looking. I won’t stop fighting. We need to do something about Shiro _now_ , before it’s too late.”

Pidge pulls away from the door and stares at it. Her mind is moving a mile a minute, whirring like an engine on the verge of overheating. Why is Keith speaking about Shiro like that? What are they talking about? What does Matt have to do with it? She hears more talking and scrambles to listen.

“Keith, please,” Matt is saying. “Think about this. We had a plan.”

“That plan went out the window when Lance was taken,” Keith says. “We need to do something _now_. I’m not giving up on Lance, and I’m tired of that...that imposter getting away with whatever he wants. I’m done, Matt. We’re doing this.”

Matt sighs. Pidge can picture him rubbing at the scar on his chin, a new quirk that she’s noticed since he’s been back. “I don’t know,” he says. “It’s risky. We don’t know what he’s capable of.”

“And he doesn’t know what _we’re_ capable of,” Keith says. “He’s been working under the assumption that we will do whatever he asks because he looks like our friend. We need to show him that’s not the case.” He pauses. “Please, Matt. We’re wasting time. The more we have speaking against him, the better chance we have of taking him down. We need you. We have you, and the other members of the rebellion will fall in line.”

Matt doesn’t say anything, and Pidge hears Hunk say, “ _What_ is going on? Will one of you please explain?”

Keith says, “You _promised me_ , Matt.” His voice breaks. “You told me he would be okay.”

Pidge takes a step back and assesses the situation.

Something’s going on between Keith and Shiro, something bad enough that he’s apparently planning some kind of coup and Matt is somehow in on it. Pidge swallows back the stab of hurt she feels at being left out and focuses on the facts.

Keith thinks Shiro has something to do with what happened to Lance. He thinks Lance is still alive, but taken. Pidge feels almost thrown by the concept. She’d just accepted it. She accepted that Lance was dead, hadn’t even thought too hard about it.

Pidge had cut her hair, forged a fake identity, and broke down secret government firewalls on the off chance that there was information on her family’s disappearance. But when confronted with a bloody scene she’d accepted what she’d been told, no questions asked. She knows better than this. She knows better than anybody that things aren’t always what they seem. She thinks things through.

Pidge thinks about Lance. Lance the goofball, who knows how to push all of her buttons. Lance who went out of his way to befriend her, when she had been spiralling in a state of obsessive grief. Lance, who plays video games with her and steals from fountains. Lance, who hadn’t thought the mission was safe, and made sure she wasn’t the one on it.

She can still see the scene back at the red lion, like it’s imprinted onto her eyes. But she looks at it in a new light. She sees the holes in Red’s flank, and starts categorizing the types of Galra ships that can do that kind of damage. She sees the smear of Lance’s blood from the pilot’s seat, and knows if she were to look there would be some type of recording in the red lion’s databases. She thinks of Lance, fighting Galra soldiers all by himself, and how scary that must have been. She thinks of how scared he must be now.

She feels suddenly, overwhelmingly angry.

Pidge moves forward, slamming her palm against the panel to open the door. Matt, who had been leaning against it, scrambles to stay upright.

“Pidge,” he says. “Were you–”

“We’re not even going to talk about the fact that you all were trying to keep this from me,” Pidge says. “Because we all know you chucklefucks aren’t going to get anywhere without my help.”

She steps forward, directly in front of Keith. “You’re going to explain, from the beginning,” she says. “And after that, we’re going to find Lance.”

***

_“What is it about me that no one ever listens to anything I fucking say?” Lance says as him and Red corkscrew through a canyon, Galra fighters ride their ass like this is rush hour traffic and not a high speed chase. “No, really. Is it my voice? Am I not being loud enough?”_

_Red stops twisting as the cavern abruptly turns, curving to land feet first against the wall. Her claws shred the rock as she launches again, pushing from wall to wall and evading shots from the fighters._

_“_ It’ll be fine, Lance,” _Lance mimics, voice high-pitched. “_ It’s a scouting mission, Lance.” _He hits the comm switch so hard he has to apologize to Red afterwards. “Hello?” he calls. “Anyone? Does_ anyone _copy? This is Lance, blue paladin, fly the red lion. Does anyone hear me?”_

_His mouth twists, and he moves his hand back to the thruster. “Where are they?” he asks. He pushes Red forward in a flip, shooting two shots from her mouth and tail as he goes. One of the fighters is hit, crashing in a blaze at the bottom of the canyon._

_“Hell yeah!” Lance cheers, pumping a fist. “That leaves roughly seven billion to go.” He pulls back, lifting Red steadily up and out into the open air above the canyon. He can see the Galra cruiser in the distance, a dark and ominous shape amongst the clouds. As fast as she is, Red can’t avoid their shots forever. He needs to get away. He has a plan that needs to be enacted._

_As he had predicted, there had been nothing but a trap set for them on that planet. An entire fleet of Galra fighters lying in wait aboard a cruiser. Maybe there_ had _been some kind of resource on this planet, but as far as Lance can tell it’s been completely tapped out._

_Or maybe the resource is the planet’s uncanny capability of blocking any and all communication to and from Lance’s lion, or maybe it was whatever had shorted out Pidge’s cloaking technology pretty much as soon as he’d entered the atmosphere._

_Lance keeps pulling up, pushing Red faster, higher. He sees shots passing by them in his peripheral vision. This is all going so much worse than he had thought it would. He trusts that nothing the Galra have in their arsenal is fast enough to catch up to Red, and keeps his focus on the sky before him. He’s nearly home free, he can see the glimmer of stars. He needs to get out of there, as far as he can, and then he–_

_The shot hits them from the side, dead on. They tumble through the air, uncontrollable. Lance is thrown about in his seat, gritting his teeth. He manages to get control back just before they slam into the ground, twisting red back upright just as the shadow of whatever hit them falls overhead._

_“Oh,_ fuck,” _Lance says, feeling the red lion growl in agreement._

_It’s a robeast, smaller than Lance is used to seeing, but still much, much bigger than Red. It floats above them, a large, black orb opening a huge, mechanical eye. Lance watches as thick tentacles rise from the inky black, smaller eyes blinking open at the ends of them to peer down at Lance and Red._

_“Right,” Lance says, swallowing. He adjusts his grip on the thrusters, staring up into that wide eye. “Well. You ready, girl?”_

_The red lion lifts her head and roars in the robeast’s face._

_***_

Allura is the one to tell Coran.

She hates it, being the bearer of this terrible news, but her paladins are already suffering so much. She couldn’t ask this of them. She thinks, also, that Coran will take it better if it’s her.

She scoffs to herself, as though anything could make receiving news like this better.

When Coran returns from Olkari, Allura is waiting for him in the pod hangar. She wrings her hands nervously as he makes his way out of the pod, cheery and loud as always. He’s singing an old Altean song that she remembers being popular when she was a young child.

“ _Bum, bum, bum, riggly-tiggly toe,”_ he sings, gathering his supplies and bouncing on his toes. “ _My mother is your mother and my mother is a–”_

“Coran,” she interrupts, and her voice is loud and jarring in the echoey hangar.

“Oh, princess!” he says, turning to her. His arms are full of a box of what looks like springs. “Fancy seeing you here, were you waiting for me?”

“I...yes,” Allura says. “I...How was Olkari?”

She bites her lip, feeling like a coward. For a moment, she lets herself be angry that this responsibility was left to her. She aches for her father, who always knew what to do, especially under difficult circumstances.

“Oh, it was lovely,” Coran says. “They are always so generous, a truly wonderful race of people. We now have enough supplies to keep the ship running for well over a phoeb!”

“That’s...that’s wonderful,” Allura says. She clasps her hands together. “Coran–”

“Has Lance returned from his scouting mission?” Coran interrupts. “I have been curious about the information Pidge’s scanners were picking up. As far as I could remember, the planet in question was barren! But you never know–”

“There was nothing on that planet,” she interrupts again. “There was...it was…”

“Well, that’s quite strange,” Coran says. “It’s unusual for Number 5 to have bad intel. Maybe the Galra beat us to the punch!”

“The Galra were there,” Allura finally says. “They were there, waiting, when Lance arrived.” Coran doesn’t say anything, so Allura continues. “He was spotted, I’m guessing. Maybe his cloaking was faulty. His comms were faulty as well. Pidge and I, we...we went down when he didn’t check in. He was gone too long, we should have gone looking sooner...It’s been almost three days, but Shiro said–”

“Allura,” Coran starts in a weak voice.

“There was a robeast,” she says. “Or we...think it was one. It was destroyed.” She swallows. “Lance defeated it.”

Coran doesn’t allow her to continue. “He’s gone, isn’t he?” he says, slowly leaning back against the side of the pod, as though suddenly exhausted. “He didn’t make it.”

Allura looks down, feeling her eyes fill with tears yet again. She’s tired of crying. She nods, and Coran takes a deep, wavering breath.

When she looks up, Coran is setting down his box of springs. He moves slowly, and he seems so _old_ all of the sudden. It scares her, seeing the lines on his face and the resigned look in his eyes. She’s lost so many people already, and she’s starting to realize that that will never stop.

“Do the others know?” Coran asks.

Allura nods. “Pidge was there when...we found the red lion,” she says, and Coran winces. “Shiro came down soon after, and I called the Blade of Marmora to send Keith.”

“Hunk?” Coran asks.

“I believe Pidge was the one to tell him,” Allura says. “I only just got back. Keith wished to see the red lion.” She crosses her arms over her chest. “He’s...not doing well. None of us are doing well. I…” Her breath hitches, and she turns her head to the side. “I sent him down there.”

“Princess,” Coran says, stepping forward. “You couldn’t have known.”

“That’s _not true_ ,” Allura says. “Lance predicted it. Keith said...We knew we didn’t have enough information. I should have _listened.”_

“Allura, my dear,” Coran says, moving to place his hands on her shoulders and pull her into a hug. She can feel the last of her strength leave her. “You’ve lost so much.”

“You have too,” she says, sinking into his embrace. “You’ve lost just as much as I have.”

“It’s not a competition,” he says. “And it’s not your fault.”

She doesn’t believe him, but she lets herself soak in the comfort, here in the only place she feels truly safe. “You would think,” Allura says after a moment, her voice hoarse. “You would think that the pain would fade. That we’ve felt so much of it, for so long, that we’d just get used to it.” She grasps at the back of his shirt and buries her face into his neck. “It _doesn’t,_ Coran. It piles on. It gets worse. I can’t _take it_ anymore.”

Coran holds her tightly, and if she closes her eyes it almost feels like one of her father’s hugs. But it’s not quite the same, and it never will be. Every loss is like a shredded hole in Allura’s life, a gaping wound that doesn’t heal. She walks the halls of this castle and she can see the ghosts of those that came before her, filling the banquet halls and meeting rooms and training decks. Lance will be there too, now. She wonders if she’ll hear the echo of his laughter in the common lounge, whispers of his voice in her ear as she flies the blue lion. With every part of her that’s taken, she feels almost as though she’s becoming a ghost herself.

“I can’t,” Coran says, voice wet. He pauses momentarily, as though overwhelmed. “I can’t tell you that it gets easier.” He pulls away to look into her eyes. His face is tear-stained. “It doesn’t. It never will. But you _will_ get stronger, Allura. You can’t see it yourself, but I can see your strength. The others do too, and that’s why they follow you. That’s why Lance went on that mission.” He reaches up and pushes an escaped strand of hair behind her ear. “You are very dear to me, Allura. You all are. Losing Lance is...it’s pain almost like I’ve never felt before. But we cannot be defeated by our grief. We must continue on, for all that we’ve lost.”

He presses his hands to her cheeks, and she covers them with her own hands. “That being said,” he says. “Do not feel the need to shoulder the responsibility. We will need each other more than ever, now. Don’t be afraid to let yourself be vulnerable. You are very young, Allura, just like they are. Let us help you.”

Allura nods and he steps away, running a hand over his mouth and mustache. He stands up straight and tall, but he’s lacking his usual happy glow. Sadness sits on his shoulders like a cloak, and Allura wants to draw him into her arms again.

He picks up his box of springs. “Now, I’ll just set these in the yellow lion’s hangar,” Coran says, his voice energetic in a way his features are not. He turns back to Allura, his face soft.

“Has anyone thought to make any...arrangements?” he asks. “I don’t want...I wouldn’t want to upset the others so soon, but–”

“No, there’s...there’s not anything to worry about,” she says. Coran winces. “The red lion is in bad shape. We may have to...I don’t want Hunk to see her in that condition. I believe Shiro brought her back to the castle using the black lion.”

Coran nods. “I will see to it at once,” he says, moving to leave the hangar.

“Wait, Coran,” Allura says. “I don’t want you...if you do not think you’re ready…” She straightens her back. “Do not feel that _you_ have to shoulder the responsibility, either. We are all here for you, as well.”

Coran looks back at her, and there’s an almost shocked expression on his face before it softens into a sad smile. “I’ll be fine, princess,” he says. “I...I do best when kept busy. I will see to the red lion.”

“I...okay,” Allura says, doing her best to smile back at him. “Thank you, Coran.”

“It’s my pleasure, princess,” Coran says. Then he leaves, and Allura tries not to dwell on the sad slope to his shoulders.

_***_

_When Red goes down, she goes down hard._

_Lance’s vision flashes white on impact, and he nearly blacks out. He almost wishes he had, closing his eyes as Red rolls and his world turns over and over. The crunching of metal around him is near deafening, loud enough to completely drown the sound of his own screaming._

_She eventually skids to a stop, and Lance hasn’t quite got his bearings when she’s up on her feet and running across the plains. Lance blinks hard, grabbing for her controls and trying to focus through her cracked viewport. “It’s okay,” he says. His tongue feels too big for his mouth. “It’s okay, you’re doing great, Gorgeous. We just gotta get away. We have to–”_

_They’re hit again. The robeast is so fast, as fast as they are, and there’s nowhere to hide. Red cries out in distress, and Lance cries out in pain. They’re thrown, landing on their side a good ways away. Lance groans in pain, hanging awkwardly in his harness. Red makes a pained noise, scrambling to get back on her feet. She manages to flip upright, but her legs shake when she tries to stand. She cries._

_“No, no, no,” Lance says, groaning as he leans forward to place his hands on her console. There’s a twinge in his side, and he looks down to see a piece of Red’s tattered flank sticking out of it. He’s effectively pinned to his seat. He thinks that should hurt more than it does, but that’s a thought for later. “You’re fine, girl. Don’t worry. You’ve done so well. You’ve fought so hard. I’m here.”_

_He can see the robeast approach slowly from a distance, and takes a deep breath. Pain sparks through his chest, and he leans back, keening. Red makes a worried noise, attempting to stand again._

_“I think this is maybe it for Loverboy Lance, the Voltron sharpshooter,” Lance says. “Fuck you very much, Shiro. Scouting mission, my ass.” He coughs, and is unable to hold back the short scream at the pain it causes._

_The robeast is almost upon them, blotting out the sky. “It doesn’t need to be that close to shoot us,” Lance says, annoyed. “It’s just being a dick. What are you waiting for?”_

_The red lion growls, and Lance feels her shake around him. “What are you doing?” he asks. The red light around him has long since turned off, leaving him in darkness. The lion begins to light up again in white. “Red?”_

_She roars, dipping forward. A small screen lights up in his helmet, just over his eye. A scope. An image appears, unbidden, in his head. A rail gun._

_“Oh my god,” Lance says. He hears the telltale whine of a cannon warming up. “Oh_ hell yeah _, Red! You beautiful girl, you smart girl. I love you so much, holy shit.”_

_The robeast is a huge, sitting target. This is the kind of shot Lance can make with his eyes closed. He lines up the shot with his tongue sticking out the side of his mouth, leaning forward as best he can with a shard of metal in his side._

_He says, “Hasta la later, bitch,” and fires._

_A beam of light flies out from above him, burning bright against the blue sky. Lance watches as a hole tears through the robeast, dead center through the pupil. Its tentacles blow back in the wind, and it falls, breaking through the ground as it impacts._

_Lance feels the recoil from the gun, jerking him forward and then back. There’s a disgusting splattering noise as the shard is ripped from his side. His vision goes black at the edges._

_Red makes a groaning, tired noise, lowering her head to the ground. Lance chokes on a sob, patting the closest part of her he can reach, which is the armrest of his seat._

_“It’s okay,” Lance says, as the noises continue. “It’s okay, girl. Go to sleep. You were amazing.” She cries out to him, and he sniffles. “I know. I know. You’re not alone. I’m here.”_

_There’s a sound like a big, heaving sigh, and Red’s lights blink out.  Lance slumps backwards, hand hovering over the hole in his side. He turns his head, surveying the damage to the ship around him._

_It seems like everything that could possibly be damaged is damaged. Screens are cracked, metal bent and tattered. There’s a huge gash in Red’s side, cool air blowing in._

_Lance sighs, wondering how the hell Hunk is meant to fix that, when a shadow appears in the opening, yellow eyes glowing in the darkness._

_***_

Keith looks up at the red lion, laying on her side in her hangar, and says, “Is this necessary?”

Pidge already has her tablet out, scanning every part of the lion she can see. “Of course it is,” she says. “This is now a crime scene. We are investigating a crime.”

“I just...Shiro _has_ to know something. I don’t believe that he hadn’t known this would happen.”

“And _I_ thought we had all agreed to let Matt handle that, and we’ll handle finding Lance,” Pidge says. She walks over and unlatches the emergency door under Red’s jaw.

It unnerves Keith to see Red this still, to see her let people in without a fight. He no longer has a strong connection with her, but to feel _nothing_ is making his skin crawl. Pidge steps in carefully, tablet still raised and, after a moment of hesitation, Keith follows.

The smell of blood is still strong, though the dead soldier is gone. Keith watches as Pidge freezes, squeezing her eyes shut for a moment. When she opens them again, she looks determined, and Keith moves aside to let her do her thing.

Everything is on its side, so Keith has to reach up for her to plug the tablet into Red’s console. Neither of them really have any urge to touch anything, as though they would be disturbing something sacred. The light of the tablet throws strange shadows in the otherwise dark room, and Pidge taps at it, frowning.

“They really did a number on you, huh, girl?” she says, whistling. She taps some more, and there’s a low, whining sound, like ancient gears turning. Slowly, everything around them starts to come alive, bathing them in red light.

“There you go,” Pidge says proudly. “This won’t last long, so we need to–”

The ground under them shifts, and there’s a loud, agonizing noise from Red. Her presence floods into Keith’s mind, overwhelming, and he stumbles.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa!” Pidge says, scrambling to brace herself against Lance’s chair.

The lion lifts, and then falls, only to do it again. The two of them teeter and trip inside. Keith falls into the wall, bracing himself with his hands, and grimaces as his hand lands on a congealed splatter of blood, black in the low light. “She’s trying to get up,” Keith says. “She’s...she’s in pain. She doesn’t know where Lance is.”

“Well, can you get her to calm down?” Pidge says. “We need to get this data before someone else does. It won’t take long, I promise. I just need to access her camera feed.”

Keith bites his lip and nods. “I can try,” he says. He stumbles again, catching himself on a piece of bent metal. “Red,” he says. “Red, hey, listen to me.”

She roars, and Keith and Pidge wince.

“We’re going to find him,” Keith says. He rubs his hands along the wall, though he doesn’t think giant robot lions understand the sensation of being pet. “You know me. You know I’ll bring him back. I’ll die trying.  But you need to calm down.”

Her paws scratch across the smooth floors of the hangar, screeching uncomfortably. “I know,” Keith says. “I know it hurts. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry, girl.”

“I’m downloading the files now,” Pidge says. Her eyes look suspiciously glassy. “It won’t be long.”

Red makes a high-pitched pleading noise, and her distress is so palpable that it brings tears to Keith’s eyes as well. He keeps repeating himself. “We’re going to bring him home, I promise. We’ll bring him back.”

He pats uselessly at the wall and ignores Pidge surreptitiously swiping at her tears. He closes his eyes, pressing his forehead to Red’s battered side. Keith lets himself let go, falling headfirst into missing Lance.

He refuses to think that Lance won’t be coming back, but he can let himself admit that all of this would be so much better with Lance at his side. Lance is the comforting one, the empathetic one. Lance knows what to do. Lance helps Keith know what to do. A tear escapes the trap of his eyelids, and he brings his arm up to catch it. He can’t afford to completely break down, no matter how much he wants to. He has to stay strong so the others will stay strong, and then they can bring Lance back and Lance can go back to being the one who keeps it together. Keith needs to suck it up and be the leader Lance always told him he could be.

(He doesn’t think _“the leader that Shiro always told him he could be”_ because thinking of Shiro at this moment comes along with a miasma of Bad Feelings, a cloud of hurt-angry-confused that leaves him shaking and pale. He reminds himself that the person he attacked down on that barren planet hadn’t been Shiro, and that person deserves everything he’s going to get. He has to stop himself from storming out of that cockpit and ending this torture once and for all.)

There are few more awkward moments where Keith tries and fails to comfort the red lion, and Pidge gives updates on how far she’s progressed in downloading the recording of Lance’s mission. Red continues to make sad, pained noises.

Pidge sniffs. “Okay,” she says, and her voice has been steadier. “I have all of it. I’m...I’m gonna shut her down now.”

The red lion makes a loud, angry noise, and Pidge winces.

Keith shushes her. “You’re hurt,” he says. “It’ll be...better this way. You can heal up. We’ll find him. I promise. We’ll bring him back.”

Red rumbles angrily, but it’s weak, and she eventually succumbs to her exhaustion. Pidge does something on her tablet, and Keith leans back to watch as Red’s console powers down, leaving them in darkness.

Pidge clears her throat, clutching her tablet to her chest. They stand in the dark for a moment, silent. Keith is reminded, suddenly, of his house after his father disappeared, before social services came to pick him up. The silence had sounded just like this, heavy and awkward.

“It’s easy to forget,” Pidge says, and her voice is amplified by the uncomfortable situation. She stops and looks sheepish. “It’s easy to forget they’re basically alive,” she continues.

“I spend so much time in Green’s code, rearranging and adding stuff. She becomes something like a big computer, sometimes. I forget she has thoughts of her own until something like this happens.” She gestures to the dead lion around them. She stops talking again for a long moment, then says, “Lance never forgot. Forgets.” She’s quick to correct herself, blinking rapidly. “Me and Green, we have a great relationship, but it’s good to be reminded.”

Keith nods, looking up at the twisted metal. “Red loves him,” he says. “She did everything she could.”

“You love him too,” Pidge says. “We all do. We’re going to find him.” She straightens her back. “If anyone is going to, it’ll be us. We’ve found two brothers already.”

“Right,” Keith says. He doesn’t mention that only she’d managed to find and also keep her brother. He pushes himself away from the wall. “Let’s get to it then.”

He leaves the red lion and he doesn’t look back.

***

_The first time Lance shot and killed a real, living person, he managed to make it all the way back into the blue lion before throwing up all over the floor._

_He had done it in the pilot’s seat, at least, with his head down between his legs so his hands were free to pull on the thrusters and get him up and out of the Galra base Team Voltron had infiltrated. Luckily, Blue had seemed to realize something was wrong, and they were able to navigate their way back to the castle with little help from Lance._

_He had tried to put his helmet back on, to put himself back in the swing of things, but the bottom of the helmet slid wetly along the vomit coating his mouth and chin that he hadn’t managed to completely wipe away. The voices of the others were overwhelming him, and the image of the wet, gaping hole he’d made in that Galra’s chest was imprinted on his mind, the wound expanding and constricting with every last, choking breath._

_He had known, rationally, that there were living, breathing Galra on every ship they destroyed. But there’s a difference between knowing and seeing. Blowing ships out of the sky is easy, almost like a game._

_The sound of blood gurgling in that Galra’s throat echoed in his mind like a catchy song. Shooting him in the chest had been easy, too._

_Blue, without direction, had nearly crash-landed in her hangar. Lance had eventually mustered the will-power to switch on the comms, listening to the sounds of the others congratulating each other on a job well done._

_“That was some pretty quick thinking there with that soldier, Lance,” Lance heard Keith say, in a rare show of appreciation. “Nice job.”_

_“Uh, yeah,” Lance said back, after probably too long a moment. “Thanks, man.”_

_“Lance?” Hunk said. “You doing okay? You don’t sound so good, buddy.”_

_“I’m fine,” Lance said. “Just uh, just. Fine.”_

“Right,” _Hunk said. “Is that why you’re still in your lion?”_  


_“Uhhh,” Lance said._  


_“Lance, are you hurt?” Shiro said. “Do you need help?”_

_“No, no,” Lance said. “I’m...I’m good. Really.” He could tell, even listening to his own voice, that he wasn’t being very convincing._

_“Right, I’m coming up,” Shiro said._

_“No!” Lance said, too loudly. “I’m really...I’m fine. The uh, g-forces got a bit too much for me and I pulled a Hunk all over the place up here. Really, dude, it’s super gross. You don’t want–”_

_“I don’t care, I’m coming up,” Shiro said. “No, Hunk, you stay down here. Go get out of your armor. The last thing we need is two people throwing up.”_

_Lance groaned. It was only a matter of time until Shiro was there and fussing over him. He stood on shaky legs, making his way to the back of the cockpit for a rag from the stash of supplies he kept there._

_“Shiro, really. It’s okay,” Lance said, stumbling back to upchuck central. He dropped to his knees and bent forward._

_In a flash, he was back on that base, leaning over that soldier’s body, making sure he was dead._

_He was throwing up again when Shiro made it up and into the blue lion._

_“Oh, god,” Lance said, wheezing. “Shiro, fuck, get out of here.” He tried to use the rag in his hand to clean up some of the mess, but the smell had him starting up all over again._

_Lance felt someone kneel down next to him. He closed his eyes._

_“Okay,” Shiro said, placing a hand on Lance’s shoulder. “You’re okay, just let it out. It’ll be okay.”_

_Lance choked, coughing. Tears streamed down his face, falling into his open mouth and down off of his chin. He thought,_ “No, it won’t. It won’t be okay.” _and proceeded to dissolve into a blubbering, sobbing mess._

_“You’re okay,” Shiro continued, rubbing his back comfortingly. “You’re fine. It gets to everyone at some point.”_

_Lance sobbed, hunching closer to the floor. Shiro’s gentle hand on his back reminded him so much of his older brother, and missing him was a pain so sharp it almost felt physical. He could tell his brother anything. He wanted to talk to him. Lance said, “I killed someone.”_

_Shiro paused in his ministrations. There was a long moment of silence, punctuated only by Lance’s harsh breathing._

_“The soldier?” Shiro asked. Lance leaned back, rubbing his mouth with the back of his wrist. The hard metal of his armor scraped harshly across his lips. He nodded._

_He heard Shiro take a deep breath, and then felt hands lifting him up and away from the floor._

_Lance let himself be led to the exit ramp of the blue lion, spurred by Shiro’s touch and Blue’s worried thoughts in his head. They didn’t go far, just out of Blue and into her hangar. The bright lights hurt Lance’s head, so he closed his eyes, letting Shiro guide him over to Blue’s giant paw and sit him down._

_Lance kept his eyes closed, willing himself to disappear to somewhere where he hadn’t just thrown up and cried in front of his hero._

_Shiro let him sit for a moment, before he sighed and said, “Lance.”_

_“Shiro,” Lance said._

_“That…” Shiro started. “It’s not...You didn’t…” He sighed again. “Lance, you didn’t do anything wrong.”_

_Lance scoffed. “Right,” he said. “I know.”_

_“No, Lance, you need to understand.”_

_“I_ do _,” Lance said. “I know. Just...logically knowing you’re killing people doesn’t feel the same as seeing it happen.”_

_Shiro didn’t say anything, so Lance continued._

_“It felt wrong,” he said. “It felt like...like a crime. Or a sin. I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his sweaty hair._ “My _gun did that. I did that. Point blank.”_

_“You had to,” Shiro said._

_“Did I?” Lance said. “I could have shot him in a spot that was non-lethal, like the foot. Just enough to get away.”_

_Shiro said, “Lance, he was going to kill you.”_

_“I know, but–”_

“Do _you know?” Shiro asked. “Because I don’t think you do.”_

_“I’m a paladin,” Lance said. “But I can’t just decide who...We don’t know that guy’s story. Maybe he had...had a family, or–”_

_“He would have killed you,” Shiro said. “Without hesitation. He wasn’t…” Shiro paused, struggling for words. “He wasn’t innocent, or helpless. I know what it’s like to...to kill someone who has no chance of fighting back. I know what it is to kill people who don’t deserve it.” Lance looked up at Shiro’s face for the first time since Shiro came to get him. He looked shaken._

_“Back on Earth,” Shiro said, after a long pause. “Back on Earth, it’s easy to get philosophical about this sort of thing. It’s easy to think in black and white. Who has the right to decide whether someone lives or dies? That sort of thing.” He ran a shaking hand through his white tuft of hair. “Out here, none of that matters. If you want to survive, you throw philosophy out the window. You fight and you fight.”_

_“But what makes me any better?” Lance pleaded. “How is it okay when it’s_ me? _Because I fly a lion? Because I wear this armor?” He tugged at the hard plate around his neck. “I’m just a kid. I’m just me. What makes me any better? What makes it okay?”_

_“I can’t...I can’t tell you that,” Shiro said. “I’ve done some...I’ve killed a lot of people, Lance. I did it with my bare hands.” He lifted his Galra hand, palm up and fingers spread. “I’ve spent so long thinking about this, and I don’t have an answer for you. All I can tell you is that, at the end of the day, when push comes to shove, all we have is our lives. All we can do is live another day.”_

_Lance nodded, feeling the weight of the day settle heavy on his shoulders. He didn’t feel satisfied, but it didn’t seem like there would be a satisfying answer._

_Shiro sighed. “But that’s not right either,” he said. “Because you have us, too. You have me. We’re here too, no matter what.”_

_Lance nodded again, but he couldn’t stop himself from saying, “I don’t want to do it again.”_

_Shiro heaved a deep breath, broad shoulders rising and falling. “I know you don’t,” he said. “No one does. But you’ll need to, again and again. So promise me, Lance. Promise that you’ll fight when the time comes. You’ll fight tooth and nail. You do whatever you need to to survive, and after that I’ll be there, just like I am now. We’ll get through this.”_

_Back on the dwarf planet, Lance watches Red grow smaller as he’s taken further away and he’s hearing Shiro’s voice, echoing in his head._ “You’ll fight tooth and nail. You do whatever you need to to survive.”

_He’d fought hard, had managed to kill one before he’d been overwhelmed. They have him by the foot, dragging him like fresh kill across the white sand. He scrambles against the ground, fingers scraping as he attempts to find purchase. His eyes dart around, looking for rocks or other items he can use as possible weapons. There’s nothing for as far as the eye can see._

_He turns over, looking passed his captors and to the cruiser in the clouds, no doubt their destination. To the right of it is the canyon him and Red had flown through before. He kicks, and the Galra soldier holding him doesn’t even need to adjust his grip. Pain explodes in his side, and he has to take a moment to remember how to breathe._

_“Don’t make this harder than it needs to be, paladin,” one of his captors says. It isn’t the one with the grip on his ankle. There are about five of them, the one with a hold on Lance, his talkative friend, and three up ahead, speaking seriously about what they plan to do with Lance when they get to the cruiser._

_Lance eyes the blaster in the talkative ones hands and says, “Fuck you.”_

_The Galra soldier frowns, eyes narrowing. “You’re lucky to be alive, boy,” he says._

_“I don’t know,” Lance says. “If I were dead, I wouldn’t have to look at your ugly face.”_

_The Galra soldier growls, stepping closer to Lance. “That can be arranged.”_

_“Calm down, Sevris,” the Galra with a hand on Lance’s ankle says. “Don’t listen to him.”_

_“Yeah, Sevris,” Lance says. “Listen to him, he seems like the smart one.”_

_“We don’t_ have _to bring him back alive, Brus,” Sevris says. “We may even get commendation if we kill him.”_

_“They’d prefer if we brought him alive,” Brus says. “Haggar’s orders.”_

_Lance swallows the shiver of fear at the thought of whatever Haggar has planned for him. “Yeah, Haggar’s orders,” Lance says. “You better listen to what Mommy says. You know she has Zarkon’s balls clutched in her wrinkly hands.”_

_Sevris snarls, reaching over to knock Brus’ grip off of Lance’s ankle. He grabs Lance by the chest plate, pulling him up so they’re eye to eye._

_“I am done with your jokes, boy,” Sevris says. “You will not speak of Lord Zarkon in that way. Not on my watch.”_

_Lance says, “I’ll do whatever the fuck I want.” and throws a handful of dirt directly into Sevris’ face._

_Sevris cries out, dropping Lance to claw one-handed at his eyes. Lance grunts as he hits the ground, but forces himself back up as soon as he can. He kicks up and knocks the blaster out of Sevris’ other hand, and there are two holes in Sevris’ chest as soon as Lance has the gun in his hands._

_Brus curses, pushing Sevris to the ground, but Lance has already shot him in that time. He’s hit in the neck, which isn’t the best shot Lance has ever made, but it gets the job done. He scrambles to his feet just as the other Galra take notice._

_Lance runs._

_He can hear the other three Galra crying out as he goes, but he doesn’t look back. He’s got a feeling like deja vu, but he thinks it might be the possible concussion. Every step is blinding pain in his side, and his arms shake around the blaster cradled there._

_In a split decision, he heads toward the nearby canyons. Red is too far away, and completely shut down. He thinks maybe, if he were to reach the confined space, it would be easier to pick the soldiers off in a sort of bottleneck effect. He’s not very hopeful._

_At some point he’d lost his helmet, and the dry air of the desert burns in his parched throat. He keeps his head forward and his legs moving even as the soldiers behind him begin shooting. One foot in front of the other, this is all he can do. The gaping canyon looms closer and closer, dark and inviting even as his legs get heavier with every step._

_A big hand lands on his shoulder, and Lance starts shooting blindly, desperately. His vision is wavering, and when they throw him down he can’t tell how many there actually are. It’s getting hard to think, so he just reacts. He keeps a hard grip on the blaster, even as they kick to get it out of his hands. He shoots whenever he can, aiming for heads and hearts. He bites, when they restrain him. He claws at eyes._

_They get the blaster out of his hands and pin him to the ground, and he chokes on a sob. This time they leave nothing to chance, roughly pulling his hands behind his back and snapping handcuffs in place. They leave Lance lying on the ground like he’s nothing as they speak with other soldiers on their communicators._

_Lance twists his face into the dirt, willing his tears to stop, but he’s so afraid. He knows whatever they have planned for him will be worse, now. He’s failed. They’re going to take him away, and his team won’t ever know what happened. Lance left them with that man, and there’s nothing he can do about it._

_He feels something grab onto his restrained arms, pulling him up painfully from the ground. “Now,” the Galra soldier says, “we can finally leave this fucking planet. There is no more fight in him. Let’s–”_

_He’s cut off, and Lance grunts as he’s dropped back to the ground. He hears shots firing and the other soldiers crying out, but he can’t manage to pick himself up enough to see what’s going on. He lifts his head as best he can, and a soldier drops to the ground in front of him, eyes open and lifeless._

_Lance’s eyes widen, and he starts trying to squirm away, but he can’t get away fast enough. The air quiets, a cloud of dust settles on Lance’s head. He can hear footsteps approaching, and a shadow falls over him. He doesn’t want to know what whoever this is plans to do to him, now that they’ve rescued him from the Galra. He screws his eyes shut._

_A pair of hands grasps at his shoulder and upper arm, and he’s being flipped onto his back. The movement jars his side wound, and he cries out. His vision whites as he lands, and when it finally clears he looks up at the person who saved him._

_“I’m pretty sure,” Captain Olia says, crouching down next to him and rubbing at her snout, “that you_ actually _dying was never part of the plan.”_

_Lance sighs deeply, every inch of his body loosening with relief. Rolo and Nyma step up behind Olia, rifles in hand. Rolo gives him a cheeky wave._

_“What can I say?” Lance says, voice slurring. “I’m method.”_

_He passes out._

  


***

In the late hours of the castle’s artificial night, Keith finds he can’t sleep.

Not that he’s really bothered trying. He’s self-aware enough nowadays that he can tell when he actually can't sleep versus when he doesn’t allow himself to.

He can hear Lance’s voice in his head, calling him out. _“You deserve rest_ ,” he’s saying. _“You work hard. You’re home now. Go to sleep, babe.”_

Keith had made it halfway across Lance’s room before he had to stop, sitting cross-legged on the floor in the dead center of the room, facing the bed. He hasn’t bothered taking off his Marmora uniform, despite being reassigned. He doesn’t feel that he deserves the comfort, even with Lance’s voice in his head. He hadn’t worked hard enough, and now Lance is gone.

He can’t quite bring himself to take off Lance’s jacket, though. He’s too weak.

He doesn’t know how long he’s been sitting there before he hears the sound of the door opening behind him, and Hunk says, “We have to stop meeting like this.”

Keith, whose shoulders had tensed as soon as the door opened, lets himself relax minutely. “Hey, Hunk,” he says.

There’s the soft tapping of lion slippers on the ground, and Hunk drops down to sit next to him. He doesn’t say anything for a bit, content to let them sit in silence, and it makes Keith squirm a bit.

“You haven’t changed yet,” Hunk says conversationally.

“What about it?” Keith says.

Hunk shrugs. “Lance always complains about it,” he says. “That you have to wear the uniform all the time. He says it’s uncomfortable. It leaves marks in your skin. Which, thanks, Lance, don’t need to think too hard about how you know _that.”_

Keith feels the beginnings of a smile on his face, even through his exhaustion. “He’s just messing with you,” he says. “It’s not all that bad.”

“Uh, dude, I don’t think you understand the amount of complaining I’ve heard.” Hunk stretches his arms over his head, yawning. “Just put on some PJ’s, man. We’re not going to find him tonight.”

Keith knows this, and the reminder has his shoulders tightening again. He opens his mouth, trying to think of something to say that would explain why he can’t do that in a way that doesn’t make him sound like a basket case. He ends up just closing his mouth, dropping his head and shaking it.

Hunk hums. “Do you feel like,” he pauses, “like you shouldn’t?”

Keith keeps his head down.

“Lance told me you get like this,” Hunk sighs. “All self-sacrificing. He said, ‘ _Hunk, buddy, pal, if anything ever happens to me I need you to make sure that Keith never gets another boyfriend hotter than I am, and also that he doesn’t destroy his own body for the Greater Good._ ’”

Keith snorts, covering half of his face with one hand. “I’m getting better,” he says after a moment. “I know when I’m doing it, now.”

“So why right now?”

“I don’t…” Keith sighs. “Lance isn’t comfortable.”

Hunk scoots around to sit in front of Keith, face to face. “Uhhh,” he says. “Buddy, we don’t know _what_ Lance is doing.”

“No,” Keith says. “We don’t. But from what Red looks like, I know for sure it’s nothing fun. He doesn’t get pajamas, or a nice bed, or a friend to make him feel better. He’s probably alone, and in pain, and scared. I...How can I just _sit here_ and let myself relax when he’s going through that? What kind of boyfriend am I?”

His hands are shaking, so he clasps them together, ducking his head further down.

“Oh, Keith,” Hunk says sadly. He reaches forward and wraps a big hand around Keith’s clasped ones. “Keith, there’s nothing we can do about that.”

“There _is_ ,” Keith says. He looks up and into Hunk’s eyes. “I should be out there, looking for him. I don’t know what I was doing, coming back here. I should be going over that footage Pidge got. I should be doing something about Shiro. I should be...I should be…”

“What? Flying around empty space? Keith, we don’t…” Hunk stops, pulling his hand back to scrub through his hair. He’s not wearing his headband for once, and it makes him look younger, somehow. More vulnerable. “We don’t know where he is.”

“ _Someone_ does,” Keith says, voice pleading. “This isn’t like when Shiro disappeared. Lance was taken. We _know_ he was. Someone has to know. I could find a Galra ship, use Pidge’s technology to hack in–”

“And get caught and captured too?” Hunk says.

“At least that way I’d be _with him_ ,” Keith says, rubbing his hands over his face. He can feel his composure cracking, the careful facade he’d built up crashing to the floor. This is why he can’t be leader. This is why he left. “I don’t know what I’m _doing_ here.”

Hunk sighs. “Look,” he says, and his voice is shaky. “I’m not...Today, I thought my best friend had died.”

Keith winces, curling further in on himself.

“No, listen,” Hunk says. “I thought he’d died and I was...I was aimless. Lance is...Lance is a rock. He’s grounding. He talks people out of panic attacks. He makes people laugh. He makes things...he makes scary things less scary, just by being there. I can’t...I go where Lance goes.”

Keith looks up. Hunk isn’t looking at him, but he’s keeping his head up, back straight.

“They told me he died and I...I thought, ‘I can’t follow him there.’ I have nothing holding me down. He’s my _family._ You all are, but Lance...he’s a part of me.” Tears start gathering in Hunk’s eyes, and he’s quick to rub them away. “I just...gave up. I’m not a fighter like you guys are.”

“Hunk, you’re–”

“No,” Hunk says. “No, let me finish. I work in worst case scenarios. I’m a ‘cup half empty’ person. I don’t...I _gave up!_ I was ready to just...live with it. And then you came in and you...you gave me hope. You came in and you took charge and I...I needed that. Pidge, too. We need you here, because it was you who kept us going. We’re going to find him, and we’re going to do it with you in the lead.”

“It’s not _me,_ though,” Keith says. “It’s Lance. It’s...I’m not a leader, Hunk. Without Lance, I don’t know what I’m doing. I don’t know how I’m still...still functioning.”

“You are because you know he’s out there,” Hunk says. “And he’s waiting for us to come find him. And you would do anything for him, right?”

Keith nods, looking back down at his lap.

“Good,” Hunk says, clapping him on the shoulder. “I’d expect nothing less from my best friend’s boyfriend. Now, get up.”

Hunk stands up, and Keith looks up with wide eyes at him, surreptitiously rubbing his shoulder where Hunk hit it. “Where are we going?” Keith asks.

“ _You_ ,” Hunk says, reaching down to help Keith stand, “are going to put on some comfortable clothes, and then _we_ are going to go drink some space tea, and you’re going to crash in my room tonight. You’re useless to Lance unless you get some proper rest. And then tomorrow, me, you, and Pidge are going to find our friend.”

Keith, slightly chastened, nods, moving towards Lance’s closet. “Why your room?” he asks, pulling out a comfy pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“It’s so I can keep and eye on you,” Hunk says. “Because, yeesh, Lance wasn’t exaggerating when he said you get all self-destructive. And anyway…” He raises an eyebrow at Keith, a smirk curling on his face. “Can you imagine Lance’s face when he comes back and I tell him his boyfriend has been sleeping with me while he was gone?”

***

The next day, they convene in Pidge’s lab.

Keith doesn’t want to admit it, but he’s putting a lot of stake in this footage they’ve pulled from Red. They have virtually nothing else to go on, and the situation is pretty dire. Despite Hunk’s best efforts, Keith’s night had been sleepless. He’d spent the entire night staring at the ceiling, wondering what sort of atrocities were happening to Lance.

“‘Sup, nerds,” Pidge says, when Keith and Hunk walk in. She looks like she’s been up a long time, and Keith wonders if she also had been unable to sleep. She’s curled up in her chair, knees at her chin. She doesn’t look away from the computer screen.

“Have you watched it yet?” Keith asks, coming to rest the side of his hip against her desk. She looks weirdly hesitant at the question, almost sheepish.

“Uh, no,” Pidge says. “I, uh, I thought I’d wait for you guys.” She’s blushing and refusing to meet Keith’s eyes, and Keith remembers with a pang of sympathy that Pidge had been the one to find the red lion. She’s probably not too eager to see how that went down. “I’ve been scanning Galra frequencies for any mention of Lance, but so far nothing.”

Keith nods. “It was the same with Shiro, right? They probably don’t want us to find him.”

Pidge nods, and takes a deep breath. She lets her legs drop to the floor and leans back, looking up at them. “So, you guys ready?” she asks. Keith nods, steeling himself, and after a moment Hunk does too, though he looks hesitant.

Keith places a hand on Hunk’s arm. “If you don’t think you’re up to it, you don’t have to watch,” he says. “We’ll tell you everything. It’s going to be...pretty bad, going by what Red looks like.”

Hunk shakes his head, setting his jaw stubbornly. “No,” he says. “I’m going to watch. I want to know who did this, and anyway, the more eyes we have on this the better. He would do it for me. Roll it, Pidge.”

Pidge nods, pulling up a holoscreen. There are a few different angles from the red lion, and one of Lance in his pilot seat. Hunk takes a shaky breath at the sight of him, and Pidge slips her hand into his.

Keith drinks the image of Lance in, swallowing around the ache in his throat. Lance in the video is chattering away at Red as he adjusts her controls. He looks nervous, Keith can tell by the set of his shoulders. Lance says, “Don’t worry, Red. It’ll all go fine. Hopefully. It’s just a mission, we’ve done _tons_ of those. Sure, this one is one hundred percent a trap, but it’s nothing we can’t handle.”

Hunk laughs, wiping away the tears gathering in his eyes. Pidge reaches forward to skip further along in the mission, closer to Lance’s destination.

“I want to see how he got caught,” she says. “I equipped Red with cloaking capabilities right before they left, and they were working perfectly.”

She stops speeding through just as Lance enters the planet’s atmosphere. He frowns at one of the screens in front of him.

“Uhh, what the fuck?” he says, reaching forward to tap at the screen. “What’s going on with your cloaking, Red?”

Pidge pulls up another holoscreen, one with a blueprint of a lion Keith assumes is Red. “I pulled her diagnostic records as well,” she says. “We can see what she went through, in case there’s anything…” She trails off as the diagnostic glitches and goes black. “What the fuck?”

She’s echoed almost immediately by Lance in the video saying “Ugh, Pidge, what the fuck?” He’s tapping on random buttons and holos, even giving the console a hard hit with the side of his fist. After that, Lance sits back and looks up at the ceiling. “Sorry ‘bout that, girl. It worked on my old Xbox back home.”

“There was something jamming Red’s frequencies,” Pidge says decidedly. “That’s why the cloaking didn’t work, and why we didn’t receive any messages from him.”

“Well, we tried,” Lance says, shrugging. “That’s probably good enough, right? So, uh, I guess on to Phase Two–ooohh shit!”

He jerks, and Red spins off course, narrowly avoiding shots from the sizable amount of Galra fighters suddenly on Red’s tail. “I _knew_ it was a trap,” Lance yells. He reaches to activate his comm. “Hey, losers, I was right! There are a _lot_ of Galra on my ass. I could use a bit of help. Anyone copy?”

The three of them watch as Lance goes through a series of maneuvers trying to get away from the fighters, calling the castle all the way. Keith can’t help but feel a kind of bubbly pride at how well Lance flies. He leads a chase like no other, spirited and imaginative. Lance and Red are like extensions of each other, spinning on a hair pin. He’s really improved so much.

Keith can hear Hunk and Pidge quietly cheering, watching Lance outsmart countless Galra fighters. It’s almost easy to forget how this ends, watching Lance laugh and cheer and joke, until Lance is shot from the sky.

It feels like Keith’s heart has stopped beating, sharp and painful in his chest as Lance tumbles through the air. He can hear Hunk muttering, “No, no, no, no _Lance_ –” just as Lance manages to gain control, catching them in the air. Keith watches as Lance turns Red around to face what hit them.

The cameras displaying what is happening outside of Red start to go fuzzy with static, the picture cutting out and returning sporadically. “No, shit, what?” Pidge says, pulling her keyboard closer to her chest and typing rapidly. “What is going on?”

“Oh, _fuck,”_ says Lance.

One by one, the holoscreens go black. Pidge scrambles to fix whatever’s happening, Hunk bending forward and offering suggestions. Keith ignores them. He can’t tear his eyes away from the Lance feed. Lance has his eyes on whatever attacked them, wide and dark in the red light.

“Right,” Lance says, visibly composing himself.

“It’s got to be the robeast,” Pidge says. “That’s what was messing with Red. It has to be.”

“There was a _robeast?_ ” Hunk says.

Keith watches Lance. His feed is the only surviving one. He thinks of the large, black shape he saw earlier on the dwarf planet, cutting through the horizon. It had been so much bigger than Red.

Lance in the video adjusts his grip on the thrusters, rolling his shoulders. The picture begins to glitch, rolling static over his frame. He says, “You ready, girl?”

There’s a roar, loud and echoing in the dark lab, and the picture cuts out.

“ _No!”_ all three of them cry in unison. Pidge immediately goes back to attempting to find a way to recover the lost footage.

“What the fuck happened down there? There was a robeast? Lance fought a _robeast?”_ Hunk says, wringing his hands.

“He fought and he won,” Keith says, clenching his fists. “I saw it. He destroyed it.”

“A fucking robeast,” Hunk says. “One that interferes with our lions’ systems. Guys, this is–”

“I was wondering where you all got to.”

All three of them freeze at the sound of Shiro’s voice. Keith turns to see Shiro standing in the doorway to the lab, Allura at his side. She looks curious, but timid in a way that Keith has never seen her. He suddenly feels awful for ditching her the way he had when they returned to the ship, after she had been so understanding.

“Uhhhh, yeah, here we are,” Hunk says, fake laughing. He can’t seem to meet Shiro’s eyes, looking down at his feet. He fusses with his headband. He seems scared. Keith had seen Hunk, as they left his room earlier that morning, grabbing his unactivated bayard and stuffing it in his pocket.

Pidge hasn’t turned away from her screens, back stiff. Keith is starting to realize why Lance kept his troubles a secret for so long.

“What’s happened?” Allura asks. “Have you discovered something, Pidge?” Her tone sounds hopeful, though Keith isn’t sure what she’s hoping for.

He’s trying to think of some excuse for them all to be in here working when, as far as what Allura and Shiro believe, they found out their friend and boyfriend had died the day before. Before he can say anything, though, Pidge says, “We’re trying to find Lance.” Her voice is firm, and just a bit hostile. Keith sighs, resting a hand on the back of her chair.

Allura raises a hand to cover her mouth, giving Shiro a look. Shiro sighs, crossing his arms.

Keith bends down to talk to Pidge. He says, “So we’re doing this now?”

Pidge turns to look at him, and her eyes are glassy, but fierce. “I was up all night watching footage of Lance here, on the castle. I saw how Shiro treated him.” Her eyes dart away to look at Shiro. “ _He_ did this. Matt can do whatever he wants with the rebels, but I’m not following Shiro anymore.”

Keith nods, standing up. Hunk looks between the two of them, twisting his hands. Keith turns back to Shiro and Allura, shrugging. “We were just going over footage of his battle, from Red,” he says.

Allura steps forward. “Did you...did you see anything?” she asks. “Do you know who did this?”

Shiro says, “Keith, can I speak with you privately, please?”

Keith crosses his arms, meeting eyes with Hunk and Pidge. “No,” he says. “Whatever you have to say, you can say it here in front of everyone.”

Shiro sighs, moving closer to them. “Look, guys,” Shiro says. “I know this is...tough. We all loved Lance very much–”

“Love,” Hunk says. He steps forward defiantly, though his hands shake at his sides. “We love Lance. He’s not dead.”

“He was shot out of the sky,” Shiro says. “And taken. What do you think the Galra are...Keith, I don’t know what you’re trying to do, but we can’t afford to be divided this way. Do you think Lance would want this?”

“ _Don’t,”_ Pidge says, voice shaking with rage, “Don’t sit here and act like you know what Lance would want you...you–”

“ _Pidge_ ,” Allura says, shocked to see her so angry. “What is going on? Why are you all–”

“We’re going to find Lance,” Keith says. “No one is going to stop us.”

“Guys,” Shiro says, hands raised placatingly. He runs one through his hair and looks at them with sad eyes. “I just don’t want you to have...false hope. I know what the Galra are capable of. Lance was seriously injured, do you think they’re going to heal him? They wouldn’t waste the energy.”

“You don’t know that,” Keith says, voice just below a snarl. He steps into Shiro’s space. “Or maybe you do? You seem pretty sure of yourself, Shiro. Tell me, what proof do you have that he’s dead?”

“I have _over_ _a year of first-hand experience,”_ Shiro pleads.

“Enough,” Allura says. “You are all acting very strange. We are a team! Shiro is right, we can’t let this break us.”

“Princess, this team is already broken,” Keith says. “It broke as soon as Shiro, the _real_ Shiro, disappeared. You just haven’t realized it yet.”

“What are you _talking_ about?” Shiro says.

“I’m talking about how you did this,” Keith says. “Ever since we found you, floating in space, you’ve been different.”

“I almost _died._ ”

“It’s not that,” Keith says. “You made Lance’s life hell for _weeks_.”

“Look, I don’t know what he told you,” Shiro says. “But do you really believe that I would do anything to hurt you? Any of you? You think I sent Lance out to die on purpose? He was a part of the team.” He turns to look at Hunk and Pidge. “Really, guys?”

He looks genuinely hurt, his dark eyes wide. Even now, Keith feels a pang of guilt at the expression, but he swallows it down. He can see Lance in his mind’s eye, scared and alone. He’d felt alone all that time, and no one had noticed. _Keith_ hadn’t noticed. He’d been alone in that cockpit, facing down an unspeakable evil. Keith isn’t going to let him be alone anymore.

At Shiro’s plea, Pidge’s expression doesn’t change. She keeps her glare level, arms crossed. Hunk looks torn, but he stands his ground. He can’t quite meet Shiro’s eyes, though.

Allura steps forward. “Paladins,” she says, firmly. “You are being unreasonable. How is any of this Shiro’s fault?”

Pidge says, “You don’t know the full story, Allura.”

“I don’t know what any of you are talking about,” Shiro says. “Believe me, I don’t. Keith.” He steps forward, reaching up to grasp at Keith’s upper arms with both hands. “Keith, you know me. Why would I do something like that to Lance? To you, knowing how you felt about him? What have I done to make you think of me in that way? We’re brothers, we stick together.”

Keith looks into Shiro’s familiar eyes. Shiro’s expression is open and honest, if a little bewildered. He looks every inch Keith’s kind, protective dork of a brother. Shiro never gave up on him. He had welcomed Keith into his home and heart, had instilled in Keith the importance of helping others, of fighting for what’s right. Keith wouldn’t be who he is now without Shiro. He’d still be a nobody, someone with no family or friends or purpose.

But there’s something in Shiro’s eyes, something dark and foreign. His body language is perfect, but the eyes are hard and unchanging. As the silence stretches on, Shiro’s grip on Keith’s arms tightens, his fingers clenching to the point of pain. This isn’t something the others would notice Shiro doing. This is a message, clear in the growing hostility of Shiro’s eyes.

Keith grits his teeth and steps back, shaking Shiro’s hands off of him.

“Keith, please,” Shiro says.

“No,” Keith says, unable to stop himself from moving right back into Shiro’s space and bunching the front of Shiro’s shirt in his fists. “I’m not Lance.”

“Keith–”

“ _No!_ I’m not Lance,” Keith repeats. “And you can’t bully me into submission. I’m done with your lies. I’m done with you. I’m not scared of you, Shiro, and you’re not going to control us anymore. I won’t allow it.” He pushes Shiro backwards, and Shiro stumbles slightly. “You’re not going to hurt us anymore.”

Keith turns to Allura, who looks uncertain. When she meets his eyes, her shoulders set straight and her expression becomes grim. Keith says, “I’m taking back the black lion. Shiro will no longer lead Voltron.”

It’s at that moment that the alarms systems of the castle start to blare.

***

Lance wakes up with a gasp, exhaling a cloud of frost.

He coughs on it, falling forward into the cloudy glass of the healing pod. It falls away, and he stumbles out, strong arms catching him before he can hit the floor.

“Welcome back to the land of the living, handsome,” Nyma says, standing him upright but not removing her arms from his waist. “Long time no see.”

Lance groans, batting her hands away. “I won’t fall for your tricks anymore, snake,” he says. He steps back and winces at the twinge in his side. “I’m taken.”

She rolls her eyes, moving forward to help him walk. “I’m afraid our facilities aren't quite as nice as your big castle,” she says, helping him up a narrow stairway to another room. Lance guesses from the quiet hum and low buzz under his feet that they're on a ship. “You’re going to feel a bit of pain still, but you’re pretty much healed.”

Lance nods. “How long was I in?” he asks.

“About three days,” another voice says, and Lance lifts his head to see Captain Olia stand up from her place in the pilot seat of the ship they’re on. She lifts her goggles to the top of her head and smiles at him, extending a hand. “They really did a number on you.”

Lance smiles back, reaching out to shake her hand. “Thanks for the rescue,” he says. “I thought I was a goner.” He pushes away from Nyma, crossing his arms and frowning. “I lost a lot of time, though.”

Rolo, who had been leaning against the navigation console, stands up. “We took the time you spent healing to set everything up, so you’re good to go as soon as you’re able.”

“Right, thanks, man,” Lance says, grinning at them. “I really can’t thank you guys enough, though. Even you, Nyma.”

Nyma huffs a laugh, reaching back to pull a communicator out of her back pocket. “We’re really not the ones you should be thanking. Matt had us on standby, we just decided to check things out when you failed to show up. And speaking of,” she taps at the screen of her communicator, entering in a code. “You should talk to him.”

She throws the comm at him, and he struggles to catch it, blushing as he juggles it a few times before holding it firmly in his hands. It’s already ringing, Matt’s serious rebellion ID picture showing on the screen. After a moment, the ringing ends, and Matt’s looking through at him with a bewildered expression.

“Nyma?” he says, and then he says, “Lance! Holy shit!”

“Hey, Matt,” Lance says sheepishly. He does a weak jazz hand. “Surprise! I made it.”

“What the _fuck_ , dude?” Matt says. “You were supposed to be there long enough for it not to be suspicious, report back, and then go AWOL. When was faking your death part of the plan?”

Lance rolls his eyes. “It became part of the plan when I almost _died_ ,” he says. “I’m only around now because of these guys.” He swings the camera around to show the other three in the background. He walks away then, into a corner for some semblance of privacy. They turn away politely, going about their business. “The plan is still on,” Lance says. “Just got a bit delayed, that’s all.”

“Well, you better get on with it, then,” Matt says. “Because shit’s starting to hit the fan, here. I’m trying to stall, but Keith’s ready to start a war. He’s got Hunk and Pidge on his side, planning to take Shiro down so they can find _you_.”

“Me?” Lance says. “They don’t think I died?”

“That’s what Shiro tried to tell them,” Matt says. “But Keith wasn’t having it. He’s determined. He says if there’s no proof, he refuses to believe you’re dead, and he’s ready to fight the whole goddamn galaxy to find you.”

“Awww.”

“No! No aw!” Matt says. “Because _now_ I have to deal with junior detectives Pidge and Keith snooping around trying to find you, and I have to keep nodding and telling them, yeah, sure, I’m working on the Shiro thing. The rebellion will do something soon. When I’m really just waiting for you to stop being stabbed and shot at long enough to go through with the plan we _already have in action_.” He takes a deep breath. “Shit’s stressful, man.”

“I mean, there was nothing I could really do, considering I was fighting a giant fucking robot,” Lance says, “but I really am sorry. The plan’s back on.”

Matt sighs. “No, it’s not your fault.” He runs his hands over his face. “Keith’s on a rampage, and now he’s got Hunk and Pidge following after him. I can’t keep them from confronting Shiro for very long.”

“You have to,” Lance says. “We can’t be sure if Haggar knows what Shiro knows. We can’t tell Shiro anything.”

“I _know,”_ Matt says. He looks back at Lance, and he has a smile on his face. “It really is good to see you, Lance. Olia said you were pretty banged up.”

“You too, Matt,” Lance says. “Sorry for the mess.”

“It’s fine,” Matt says. He frowns. “But, Lance...you don’t know how bad it was, when they found Red. Everyone was...They were pretty upset. Hunk was...I know it was my idea, but are you sure you don’t want them to know you’re okay? I could tell them you’re alive and well, they can even talk to you. I’ll get them right now.”

Lance sighs, looking away from the screen. He knows they have to be feeling pretty terrible, Lance can’t even imagine. When Shiro disappeared the second time, Keith had gone off the rails. Lance remembers that horrible feeling, when he had learned that Keith had tried to sacrifice himself. He remembers trying to picture a world without Keith, or any of his friends. It’s a world he doesn’t ever want to live in. He wouldn’t be able to handle it.

He says, “No. We can’t tell them.”

“Lance…”

“No, Matt, I know Keith,” Lance says. “He’ll want to come with me, or he’ll want me to come back. The more people know about me, the more likely Shiro will find out, and we _need_ the element of surprise. It’s the only chance we have. I have to do this alone.”

And he is truly alone now, even surrounded by friendly people. He needs to do this for his team, and he’s the only one who can. The worst of it is that Lance can’t feel Red at all, her presence is gone. He hopes she’ll be okay.

Matt sighs. “Alright,” he says. “You’re right. I know you are. It’s just...it’s hard seeing them so sad.”

“I know,” Lance says. “I hate this. But...I’ll be back soon enough. I’ll beg for their forgiveness then.”

“You better,” Matt says. “I’m not facing an angry Pidge for you, McClain.”

Lance laughs, ready to respond, but he’s interrupted by a loud noise coming from Matt’s end of the call. Matt looks up, frowning.

“The castle alarms,” Matt says, loudly so Lance can hear over the noise. “I better go see what that’s about. You take care of yourself out there, Lance.”

“You too,” Lance says. “I’ll see you when I see you.”

Matt smiles at the camera, waving cheerfully, and Lance smiles back weakly. The connection cuts out, and Lance slumps back against the wall, worry churning his stomach.

When he musters the energy to get up again, he makes his way back towards the others. They’ve obviously been waiting for him, because Rolo turns to him immediately and says, “We’re almost to the place where we stashed your supplies. We got you a ship, some rations, clothes. We have a nice stockpile of weapons in our cargo bay, but we thought you could pick those out yourself.”

Lance nods, and Rolo gestures for Lance to follow him back down to the lower decks. Walking is becoming easier the longer Lance does it. He should be fine, going into this particular mission.

Rolo leads him to a storage space, punching in a key code to open the door and turning on the lights. Lance blinks in the light, mouth dropping open.

“I heard tell that you’re something of a sharpshooter,” Rolo says.

The room extends in further than Lance had thought it would, considering the size of Rolo and Nyma’s ship, and the walls are covered with every type of gun imaginable. Lance’s eyes roam the weapons greedily, eager to try them on for size.

He looks back at Rolo, who is leaning smugly against the doorframe. Rolo meets his eyes and shrugs.

Lance turns back to the room, clapping his hands together. “Right,” he says, stepping forward. “Maybe going rogue won’t be so bad after all.”

***

Amidst all of the commotion, returning to silence is unsettling, and Pidge has to force herself to stop biting her nails more than once.

Travelling through the castle had been easy in the chaos, alarms blaring and members of the coalition running every which way. She had been ignored in the frenzy, swiftly making her way through the winding halls. She had left Shiro and Keith to their shouting match and Hunk and Allura to their worry. She should probably be heading towards the green lion, donning her armor and preparing to fight whatever it is attacking them now, but she can’t seem to stop herself.

The green lion rumbles curiously in her head, just a bit worried, but Pidge reassures her. This is something Pidge needs to do. This is important. Pidge doesn’t like variables. She doesn’t like loose ends. In a computer program, one bug in the code can fuck up everything, can ruin all of the work you’ve done previously. Pidge is good at spotting bugs. She has trained herself to find inconsistencies and repair them. This is a glitch in their whole plan, and she needs to see if it’s even something that can be fixed.

Lance has a good heart, Pidge knows this. He’s open and friendly. He’s maybe a bit too trusting, though. She thinks of that time with Nyma, where they’d nearly lost the blue lion. She thinks of Lance spilling his guts to a dog alien he had barely met. She thinks of herself, back at the Garrison.

Pidge hadn’t cared about classes, or simulations, or friends. Pidge had been there for one reason, and that was to find information on her family. She didn’t care about her team, or her grades. She couldn’t care less if she dragged Lance and Hunk down in her searching. She had had one goal.

Lance had tried to be her friend anyway. She doesn’t think she’s ever properly thought about that before. She’s never been properly grateful.

Coran’s voice rings over the intercom as she steps into an elevator. “Paladins,” he says. “We need you in your lions as soon as possible! Paladins, where are you?”

The elevator _dings_ softly, and Pidge steps out.

She has been told before that she’s tenacious. She’s a go-getter, a problem solver. Pidge doesn’t let things go. She needs answers like most people need food and water.

She’s far enough away from the main upper decks that she can hear none of the pandemonium from upstairs, and her footsteps echo loudly down the hall. Pidge isn’t scared of many things, but the creeping darkness has her on edge. She keeps glancing over her shoulder every few steps.

She’s willing to give Keith the benefit of the doubt. She’d heard his story, and reviewed the footage afterwards. There _had_ been something off about the way Shiro acted towards Lance, and she knows Keith wouldn’t do something so drastic if he wasn’t absolutely sure. He’s impulsive, but not gullible.

There’s one variable, one loose end, that Pidge has to clear up.

There’s no one posted as she reaches her destination, and she wonders if whoever it was had been called up to help with whatever’s going on upstairs. She forces her nails away from her mouth once more as she takes those final steps. She’s engulfed in sickly green light.

Now, green is what Lance would call Pidge’s “signature color,” and she loves it. Green is her favorite hoodie, and the huge, awe-inspiring forests of Olkari. Green is the glow of her bayard, keeping her safe. And, of course, green is the lion in her head, giving her the courage to step forward into the light with her head held high.

The green of this hallway is wrong. It’s insidious. It grays her skin and obscures her vision. There’s nothing kind or comforting about this green.

Her eyes roam the cell curiously. She wonders what it had been like for Lance, sitting alone down here day in and day out, basking in this bad light and bad company.

Then, her eyes catch a pair of glowing yellow ones.

***

Meanwhile, up in the black lion’s hangar, Hunk watches everything fall apart.

The alarms continue to ring, and Hunk can feel Yellow’s nervous, eager energy tug at his stomach. He needs to be in his lion, armed and ready to protect the people he loves, but he’s afraid of what will happen if he leaves.

Keith and Shiro are fighting in a way Hunk has never seen before. He’s never actually seen Shiro this angry, and it’s scary as hell. But then again, it isn’t really Shiro, isn’t it? Hunk still isn’t one hundred percent sure. He wants to believe Keith and Matt, and Pidge seems to know something too, but he’s also wondering if what he _really_ wants is to have someone to blame, someone to hold responsible for the empty space at his side.

 _“If Lance were here,”_ he can’t stop his traitorous mind from thinking, “ _he would be able to stop them.”_

Or maybe he wouldn’t. Maybe he would just be at Hunk’s shoulder, rolling his eyes and jerking his head at the two brothers, his expression saying “ _Really?_ These _guys.”_ Hunk watches as Shiro moves into Keith’s space, faces close together, yelling hard and loud. He towers over Keith, but Keith fails to look intimidated.

Allura is right next to them, growing in height as her anxiousness grows. She’d tried to order them to stop. She’d tried to get them to agree to separate and calm down. She’s moved on to pleading with them, anxious to have them get into their lions and do their jobs.

“We don’t have _time_ for this, right now,” she says, pleading, between them.

“We can’t trust him,” Keith says. “Trust me, Allura. We can’t fight with him.”

“ _I’m_ the one who isn’t trustworthy?” Shiro says. “Who was it who abandoned the others? Which of us failed to show up when things got tough?”

“That doesn’t matter anymore,” Keith says. “I’m here now. I wasn’t here to protect Lance, but I can make damn sure nothing happens to anyone else.” He steps away, starting to head for the black lion.

Shiro reaches around Allura to grab Keith’s shoulder. He jerks Keith back, saying, “And what makes you think that Black will have you?” Shiro snarls. “Do you think you’re _strong_ , Keith? You’ve run away from every challenge you’ve ever faced. That’s what you _do_ , Keith. You run away. You’ve done it your whole life. I was wrong about you, you don’t have what it takes to be a leader. You’re _weak_ , Keith. You’re weak and afraid, just like Lance–”

Keith swings around fist first and clocks Shiro right in the jaw.

“Ohhhh shit,” Hunk says, taking an abortive step forward. Shiro is barely affected, rubbing his jaw with one hand. Allura, who had luckily stepped out of the way, is standing to the side, looking stricken. She looks as though Keith had hit _her_. Hunk meets her eyes, and she shakes her head, expression hopeless.

Shiro stands straight up, and Hunk is horrified to see a slight glow to his Galra arm. Keith falls back into a fighting stance. The tension in the air is so thick it’s almost a physical thing, stuck in Hunk’s throat. He swallows, and imagines he can feel it rolling down to twist his stomach in knots.

Keith eyes Shiro’s arm, his face grim. He reaches back, and his luxite blade is in his hands in an instant, flashing purple and transforming into a sword.

Shiro takes one step, and then another, and another, and then he’s running full tilt at Keith, arm first. Allura is screaming, and Hunk can feel his breathing quicken. He closes his eyes as they clash, the sound of Keith’s grunt somehow loud over the still-blaring alarms. He keeps his eyes closed against the sounds, trying to calm his mind. He can almost hear Lance at fifteen years old, his already cracking voice shaking as he talks Hunk out of a panic attack.

_“In three seconds, hold, out three seconds. You with me?”_

There’s a cry of pain, and he opens his eyes, gasping.

Keith is trying to put some distance between them, but Shiro is relentless, landing blow after blow against Keith’s sword. He leaves no opportunity for Keith to hit back. Keith is holding his own, though. He’s quick and lithe, never losing composure. There’s a slash in his arm, through Lance’s hoodie, but it looks as though he doesn’t even feel it.

Keith meets Shiro’s arm head-on, bending backwards under the weight of Shiro’s attack. Shiro bares down on him, and his eyes shine unnaturally in the glow of his arm. He looks like an evil thing, a demon. He looks wrong.

Keith takes a step backward, bracing himself, and then he throws his weight forward. He pushes Shiro back, enough that Shiro stumbles.

Keith doesn’t let the chance escape him, darting forward and slashing at Shiro with his sword. He’s just as quick on the offense as he was on defense, and Shiro almost looks surprised at Keith’s ferocity.

Sparks fly as Keith’s sword bounces off of Shiro’s arm, and Hunk flinches at every clang that rings whenever they clash. He hunches forward, covering his ears. Keith is beginning to get a somewhat desperate look in his eyes, though he seems no less determined. He’s lashing at Shiro with everything he has, but it’s not enough. Hunk knows it’s not enough. Allura knows it’s not enough, standing with her activated bayard in her hand, eyes following the two of them and looking for any openings.

Shiro uses his Galra hand to grab onto Keith’s sword as Keith jabs, pulling on the weapon and dragging Keith forward. Keith curses, twisting to aim a back kick at Shiro’s neck, and Shiro dodges.

Hunk takes a deep breath, steadying himself. Reassurance flows from Yellow, warm like sipping hot chocolate on a cold day. He needs to do something. There has to be something he can do. He looks passed their fight, passed Allura. His eyes widen.

“Guys,” he says. His voice is low, just above a whisper. He steps forward.

“Hunk, stay where you are,” Allura says.

“No, listen,” Hunk says. He shakes his head, as if in disbelief. “Guys!”

Keith and Shiro aren’t listening, they’re still fighting blow for blow. Hunk yells, “ _Listen!”_

They don’t, but Keith glances over at Hunk. He pays for it, as Shiro manages to grab onto his upper arm and throw him clear across the room. Keith lands hard on the ground, but is up quickly, running back towards Shiro. Shiro breaks into a run. They’re both out to kill, it’s obvious. Some similarities run deeper than blood.

“Jesus, fucking–” Hunk runs forwards, grabbing and activating his bayard. “ _Listen to me!”_

He lets out a barrage of shots, hitting the floor between Keith and Shiro just as they are about to meet again. They jump away from each other.

“Hunk, what the fuck?” Keith yells, skidding backwards on his feet.

“Look, dumbass!” Hunk yells back, gesturing forward with the tip of his bayard. The two of them look, confused, and Hunk hears Allura gasp.

The black lion, which had been standing stoically in the distance, has activated her particle barrier. Her bright eyes are dark. She’s locked them out.

***

Less than three feet away, on the other side of the electric forcefield, Lotor stands so tall that Pidge has to crane her head back to look into his eyes.

The glinting tips of his sharp teeth shine yellow in the glow. There’s a hint of a magenta tongue, flicking out to lick at one long canine. He smiles, bright and deadly.

“Oh really?” he says to her. “And what’s in it for me?”

***

As Lance approaches the ship, he thinks that maybe he’s had better ideas.

It hadn’t taken long for Lance and company to reach the place where they’d stashed everything Lance needed to complete this shitshow of a mission. They had left it all in the dark forest of a nearby planet with friendly ties to the Voltron coalition, covered in gray tarp and leaves.

“It’s not much, but it’ll get the job done,” Olia had said when they dropped him off, clapping him on the shoulder. “Keep in touch, Lance.”

“Sure thing,” he had said. Now, though, alone in an unfamiliar forest, Lance is wishing they were able to stick around. The silence is giving him the creeps.

He drops his bag of weapons to the ground and reaches up for the tarp. It takes him an almost embarrassingly long time to take it down. He has to jump up a few times, to pull the tarp over sharp edges and such.

And okay, sure. Lance knows the rebellion doesn’t necessarily have the budget to spare to get him a really cool fighter ship, or even a juggernaut like Rolo and Nyma’s ship, but he can’t stop himself from snorting in disbelief as he finally gets the tarp off and steps back to survey what they’ve left him with.

“Of fucking course,” Lance says to no one, running a hand over his jaw. “Keith can never know.”

It’s a cargo ship.

He makes his way inside, sighing and dropping his bag in the spacious back. It’s the alien equivalent of a uhaul truck. Lance tries not to think about it as he changes out of his bloody armor.

He’s been given the standard rebel fare, brown, brown, and more brown. Lance wrinkles his nose, but it’s not like he needs to be high fashion where he’s going. The clothes are comfortable at least.

Before leaving the cargo bay, Lance fishes one of his gauntlets out of the pile of discarded armor, opening up a small compartment in the wrist. He pulls out a small datachip.

This tiny piece of tech is by far the riskiest aspect of this entire risky shitshow of a plan. After speaking with Lotor in the lower decks, Lance, knowing Pidge would be in the red lion’s hangar, had made a quick pit stop in Pidge’s lab.

_“I don’t know what the witch is planning for your fearless leader,” Lotor had said, pressed nearly up to the electric wall of his cell. “But I can tell you that she is keeping something on her personal ship. Before I was banned from the empire, I had been compiling information on her experiments. She kept Operation Kuron very close to her chest. If I had to guess, whatever is happening with the black paladin has to do with that.”_

In Pidge’s lab, Lance had acted quickly, pulling out a datachip and copying the unfinished quintessence tracking program onto it.

_“You guess it has something to do with it?” Lance had said, raising an eyebrow. “That ain’t good enough, dude. I thought you had information.”_

_Lotor huffed, crossing his arms. “I can tell you this much,” he said. “If you want your precious Shiro back, she has something to do with it. There is something happening on Haggar’s ship, and the black paladin is involved. And I can tell you how to find her.”_

On the cargo ship, Lance collapses into the pilot seat, reaching forward to jam the datachip in the correct port. Pidge’s cheerful little hacking animation lights up on the viewport before him, and Lance smiles helplessly.

The program is unfinished, and complicated, but Lance gets the gist of it. Last he’d heard was that Pidge was unable to figure out a scan that would properly quantify the energy readings of quintessence, leaving her with no way of reading and therefore tracking it. But Lance knows the tracker works when given the correct readings, and Lotor knows how quintessence works (Lance hopes), so he punches in the correct numbers and hopes for the best.

“Please, please, please,” Lance whispers as the program processes the information. “Please, Lotor you fuck, for once in your life–”

There’s a quiet _ping_ , and a map springs forth on a holoscreen.

“Hell yeah!” Lance yells, pumping a fist. “Pidge you beautiful precious angel, you baby genius superstar.”

Lance goes about bringing the ship to life, adjusting the console and getting a feel for the controls, and soon enough he’s up and leaving the protective cover of the forest.

“Well,” Lance says aloud, used to talking to his ship at this point, “Here we go. Time to take out a super evil magic witch.”

***

Keith gapes at the black lion, sword hanging limply at his side.

“ _No!”_ Shiro yells, loud like the sound is being torn from him. “Do you see what you’ve done? We are now down _two_ lions. Allura!”

He turns to the princess. She has her bayard out and active, her posture defensive. “We need to do something,” Shiro says. “Keith is obviously not in his right mind.”

It’s at that moment that Matt and Coran run in. “What the hell is going on?” Matt says.

“Why are none of you in your _lions?_ ” Coran asks, pleading.

Allura doesn’t look away from Shiro, though her mouth is twisted in a way that shows just how unsure she is.

“The black lion is not accepting either of them,” she says.

“What?” Coran says. He turns to the lion and gasps. “How has this happened?”

“Keith decided he was going to take her back by force,” Shiro spits. “He’s lost his mind.”

Keith doesn’t say anything, turning to look at Matt and Coran. “We’ve all decided,” he says. “Hunk and Pidge, too. We’re not going to follow him anymore.”

“He’s organized some kind of plan to...to _overthrow_ me, or something,” Shiro says.

Coran says, “What is the meaning of this?”

“He needs to be restrained,” Shiro says. “Allura, he isn’t thinking. Losing Lance has made him lose his mind.”

“I’m _fine,”_ Keith says. “I’m not the one who is out of control. There’s something wrong. You need to believe me.”

“Is this really the time?” Matt says. “We’re kind of under–”

The floor under them rocks to the side, the ship around them tilting. They all struggle to stay upright.

“There is a Galra fleet,” Coran says. “The shields will not hold for long. We need to do something _now.”_

“We can’t trust Keith,” Shiro says. “He is unstable. He has attacked me _twice_ now. Allura, please.”

They all look at her, and she bites her lip. For a moment she looks hesitant, but her expression smooths and she says, “Shiro is right.”

“Allura, no,” Keith says.

Hunk says, “Please, princess–”

“No,” she says. “This has gone on long enough. Keith...I know you’re grieving, but this isn’t the answer.”

“Just let me explain,” Keith pleads. “He would have killed me just now, why are you refusing to see what’s in front of you?

“All I’ve _seen_ ,” Allura says. She takes a moment to compose herself. “All I’ve seen is you lashing out at Shiro for no discernable reason. You attacked him yesterday, and you were the one to attack him now. I think the loss of Lance has affected you far more than we have realized. As you are right now, you are a danger to this team and to Voltron.”

“No,” Keith yells. He looks at Matt, who looks sick. “Allura, just...let’s talk about this. There are things you don’t know–”

“I know enough,” she says. “Now, please, this is hard enough, just go with this. We can...we can put you in a cryopod. We can get you help once we’ve defeated this fleet.”

“ _No!”_ Keith yells, stepping back. Shiro begins to advance on him. “Allura, you don’t understand. Please listen to me.”

“Keith,” Allura says, voice breaking. “Please. you’ll be fine. Let us help you.”

“Princess,” Hunk says. “You really don’t–”

“No, Hunk,” Allura says. “I don’t know what he’s told you, but I need you to think logically.” She looks over at Hunk, face solemn. “Now please, get to your lion.”

Hunk looks torn, bayard still active in his hands. Keith, without looking at him, says, “It’s okay, Hunk. Go. I’ll fix this.”

Hunk hesitates, but nods, turning to jog out of the hangar.

“Do you see what you’ve done?” Shiro says as soon as Hunk has left. “You have destroyed the foundation of this team. How will we form Voltron this way? There is no trust. You have doomed the _entire–”_

“Shiro, _enough_ ,” Allura snaps. “Coran, please.”

“Yes, Princess,” Coran says. He steps up to Keith, face more serious than Keith has ever seen it. “Come along, my boy,” he says, and he sounds devastated. He sounds as though doing this is breaking his heart.

“Coran, please,” Keith pleads. ”We’ll get you fixed up,” he says. “It will all be okay.” Coran places his hands on Keith’s shoulders.

“Shiro, head to the bridge,” Allura says. “Since Black will not take you, you will assist Coran by leading the lions from there.” She takes a deep breath. “We _will_ fix this,” she says with conviction, before leaving the hangar.

Shiro follows after, but right before exiting he glances back, and Keith can see the slightest hint of a smirk on Shiro’s face. Keith’s grip tightens on the hilt of his sword.

Coran says, “Come along, come along,” and starts to gently herd Keith towards the door. Keith goes, helpless. They didn’t believe him. He’d failed. He hadn’t been able to convince Allura, and Shiro is still in charge. He needs to get away, but he can’t hurt Coran.

“Hey, Coran, wait,” Matt says. Keith’s head shoots up, and he can’t believe he’d forgotten fucking Matt was there.

“I’ll take care of it,” Matt says. “You go on back to the bridge.”

Coran looks skeptical, but then the ship rocks again under the weight of the attack outside.

“I can handle it,” Matt says.

Coran sighs, turning to look at Keith. He reaches forward, placing his hands on Keith’s upper arms. Keith doesn’t know what to do with the expression on Coran’s face

He looks sad. He looks sad and resignee and disappointed. Keith drops his head.

“It’s going to be alright,” Coran says. “Right now, everything feels wrong. But I promise you, Keith. It will pass.”

And with that, he leaves, hurrying in the direction of the main control room.

Keith sighs, shoulders slumping. Matt whacks him on the back of the head.

“You’re so lucky I’m here,” Matt says, rolling his eyes. He pushes Keith to start walking out of the room. “And I thought Lance was bad. Hey, look more like a prisoner. You’re going to get us caught.”

  


Keith goes along with him, feeling a bit shell-shocked over the events of the last half hour or so. He lets Matt take him, but just before they leave he stops for a moment in his tracks.

There’s a presence in the back of his head, dark and overwhelming and familiar. He turns to look at the black lion, sitting so still in the distance with her particle barrier still activated.

Her conscious is bleeding into his, pressing in like water through a sieve. She’s in pain. He stands there for a long moment, hearing her pain, sweet like a song. Her disappointment is a straining weight against his back.

Keith ducks his head, and follows Matt out of the hangar.

***

“Right,” Lance says. He drums his fingers on the controls of the ship. “Right, right, right.”

He’s parked–for lack of a better word–on the dark side of a free floating asteroid. On the other side of the asteroid lies Haggar’s personal ship.

Or at least, he’s pretty sure it is. It’s where the map had led him, and if he looks he can see a thick, cloudy bubble of purple energy around it.

Lance says, “How the fuck…” and drops his head into his hands. He drops back in the seat and stares despondently up at the ceiling. He probably should have known the security would be crazy. It’s _Haggar’s_ ship. She’s like, a magic techno-witch, and Lance has never even seen her in person and he’s terrified of her. And he’s about to try to _break into her house._

Lance rubs at his eyes, thinking. He drags his hands down his face, and when he opens his eyes, he spots it.

A supply ship.

“Okay,” he says, breathless. He stands up. “Okay, okay, okay.”

 _“What would Keith do?”_ he thinks.

Fuck, he misses Keith so much. He misses all of his team, but things are so much clearer with Keith. With Keith around, the ground feels steady under Lance’s feet. All of the nervous energy fizzing in Lance’s brain settles, and everything is just...easier.

WWKD? Keith would find an opportunity and take it. That’s right Lance, you idiot, Keith would hijack that fucking ship.

“Okay,” Lance says again. He bounces a little on his toes, punching the air like a boxer and psyching himself up. “Right. This is fucking stupid.”

The supply ship is almost passed where Lance is parked, moving quickly. It’s large enough that they shouldn't notice a lone passenger of Lance’s size hitching a ride. Lance dashes to the back of his ship, hurriedly pulling on a space suit and loading up his weapons. He places two small handguns in a pair of holsters at his hip, and wraps the strap of a rifle around his chest to rest against his back. There are other nooks and crannies in his suit to keep whatever other devices he can think of, and he makes sure to carry as much as he can. Thank fuck for Rolo and Nyma and their shadier smuggling habits.

He hops out of the airlock, skidding in the dirt as he lands. Lance’s new suit has rudimentary jetpack technology. It’s not nearly as nice as what’s in the paladin armor, but enough that when Lance runs and launches himself off the edge of the asteroid and towards the supply ship he makes it, grabbing on to one large purple wing and holding on.

He struggles for a minute, cursing, before he manages to activate the magnets in the palms of his hands and the soles of his boots, locking him onto the ship.

“How the hell does Keith do this all the time?” he mutters to himself as he strains to pull himself upright and against the barrel of the ship. “Fucking ninja.”

He inches along the wall, walking quickly when he can. Galra ships have so many unnecessary bumps and spikes. It’s tacky.

When he finally manages to make his way to what seems to be an emergency door, they're nearly at the forcefield. Lance doesn’t want to know what will happen if he isn’t inside when that happens.

“ _Shit,”_ Lance hisses, studying the large round handle. He looks up, and the forcefield looms closer and closer. “Shiiiiiit.”

He attempts to turn the wheel and it doesn’t budge. It probably requires Galra-level strength, something Lance doesn’t have. He pulls back, attempting to push it with his knees, but still nothing. He kicks it, and has to scramble to keep from falling off and into open space. _And_ his foot hurts.

“Alright, alright, alright, alright,” Lance sings to himself, under his breath. The ship begins to reflect the light of the forcefield, bathing Lance in purple. Fuck, What Would Keith Do?

Lance rummages in a small pouch strapped to his thigh, laughing triumphantly when his fingers wrap around what he’s looking for. He pulls it out and examines it, shrugging.

He sticks the small bomb to the door and activates it, then moves away as fast as he can.

He ducks his head against the ship, feeling the short aftershock as the bomb detonates. He turns his head and watches the destroyed door shoot off into space.

“Hell yeah,” Lance breathes. “Hell yeah, hell yeah.”

He moves back, looking into the opening. It looks like a typical airlock in a typical Galra ship.

He pushes his way in, just as the ship passes through the forcefield. Lance presses himself against the wall, closing his eyes and praying that just being inside the ship is enough. The magenta light burns through his eyelids, painting the world a neon pink.

After a moment, though, the light dims, and Lance isn’t fried to a crisp by evil witch magic. He opens his eyes, removes his helmet, and takes several long breaths.

He leans forward, peering out of the open door, and watches as the ship flies into a large hangar, the stars giving way to dark, purple-gray metal.

He leans back against the wall, eyes narrowing.

“Alright,” he says, for the umpteenth time. “Alright, alright.  Go time.”

He swings out of the opening and into the unknown.

***

The blue lion is unusually solemn, quieter than usual, and uncharacteristically ruthless. Allura welcomes it.

There is none of the blue lion’s warmth on this day, all control is left to Allura, and it’s difficult, but she’s grateful for the distraction.

 _“What is it about the black lion,”_ she wonders, “ _that her paladins are cursed to bring forth ruin?”_

Allura remembers Zarkon, from when she was a young girl. He had been kind, and friendly. He’d been her father’s dear friend.

In the end, he had burned them all, and Allura is alone.

The fleet attacking them isn’t very big. The Galra had just taken advantage of their idle position. It’s suspicious that they had known Voltron was here in the first place, which leads Allura to believe that these are the same Galra who attacked Lance.

The next fighter ship she catches in Blue’s jaws is unceremoniously crushed between them.

Hunk is out in Yellow, and him and Allura work in tandem to systematically destroy every ship they come in contact with. Neither of them speak over the comms, which Allura is content with.

Shiro steadily rattles off orders and suggestions, but Allura has a difficult time listening. She still feels shaken by the day’s events. She hates the feeling, knows it’s dangerous to disconnect in this way when there are lives on the line, including her own. She can’t quite shake the fight from her mind, though. _What is it about the black lion?_

A holoscreen pops up on her viewport, and Allura blinks in surprise.

“Pidge?” she asks.

“Yeah, sorry I’m late,” she says. She looks...pale, and a bit withdrawn. “I got...distracted.”

Another holoscreen appears, and it’s Hunk. “Dude,” he says. He looks relieved at Pidge’s presence. “You missed _some shit_.

“What shit?” Pidge asks. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing you should be concerning yourself with _in battle_ ,” Shiro says sternly. Hunk winces, and Pidge’s expression hardens.

“Where’s Keith?” Pidge asks. Shiro ignores her, calling out positions now that there are three lions in the field. Pidge and Hunk exchange a look, and Allura has a feeling that they’re going to be speaking over a private line anyway. They disconnect from the team comm, and Allura immediately opens a private chat for Hunk.

“Pidge, oh thank god,” Hunk says, without looking. Then he glances over and his eyes widen. “What... _Allura?”_

“Hunk,” she says. She’s not entirely sure why she thought this was necessary, but it feels like it is. Maybe it’s because Hunk isn’ tone to be disruptive unless he’s sure it’s the right thing to do. Maybe it’s because Allura is intimidated by the anger Pidge is exuding.

Maybe it’s just that talking to Hunk is comforting, and she wants to. She’s felt off-kilter for a good forty-three vargas now, and every new alliance formed or accusation thrown leaves her feeling worse.

“What did you mean, before, when you said that I didn’t know everything?” she asks, after too long a moment. “What is being kept from me?”  


Hunk doesn’t say anything for a long time, and together they take out the last of the fighters. There’s still a Galra cruiser, but Allura thinks it shouldn’t be too difficult to take down, between the two of them and Pidge.

“First,” Hunk says. “You tell me something. Do you really think that Keith is doing all of this because he wants to? Because he’s like, mad with grief or something?”  


“Hunk…” Allura starts.

“No,” Hunk says. “I want to know. I’m not judging you or anything. Unless this is another _Keith Can’t Be Good Because He’s Galra_ thing.”

“You know it’s not,” Allura says, hurt by the suggestion.

“Then why?” Hunk asks. He makes a sharp movement, and the cruiser’s ion cannon is swiftly disabled. “You know how Keith feels about Shiro.”

“I also know how Keith feels about _Lance_ ,” Allura says. “He doesn’t...Sometimes Keith comes to conclusions too quickly.”

“I don’t think he made this decision lightly.”

“Well, how exactly am I meant to know _how_ Keith came to this idea if no one is telling me?” Allura says. She swipes Blue’s claws viciously against the side of the Galra ship. Pidge flies near and shoots her vine cannon into the hole Allura made, bursting the ship from within. “When Shiro disappeared, Keith refused to accept it. He refused to move on. As a result, he made rash, impulsive decisions, and we nearly suffered for it.”

Hunk is quiet, flying his lion.

Allura continues. “I was there when Pidge found the red lion. I saw that damage that was done, and I accepted it. It’s not...It’s not something I want to believe, but I’ve lived far too long to lose myself to denial and blame.”

“Keith _immediately_ turned on Shiro when he was told. He didn’t have all of the information, but he rushed to fabricate an answer anyway.” Allura sighs, forcing herself to relax her hands from clenching tightly onto the controls. “What was I supposed to believe?” she asks softly. “Sometimes all of you feel so...young to me, despite our similar ages. I believe it’s because you have not lost as much, though that isn’t something I would wish upon any of you.” She sighs again. “I lost my ability to daydream a long time ago. I would not wish to see any of you become disenchanted in that way.”

She watches as Hunk shifts awkwardly in his seat, likely uncomfortable with the serious tone of the conversation. She can see in the holo the shadows under his eyes, how his lips are pale and colorless. She never wished any of this for them.

“Okay, but,” Hunk says. He pauses. “I think there’s a difference between dreaming and hoping.”

“It’s like...I get it,” Hunk says.  “I get not wanting to build something up so much that you’re crushed when it inevitably fails you. But what Keith is doing, it’s not that.”

“I think, with Keith,” Hunk goes on saying, “is that he’s not building anything up in his head or...or imaging some kind of fantasy scenario. It’s already there. He’s just not letting go of the faith he already has in his friends.” Hunk chuckles awkwardly. “And I know I sound like, super cliche or like...like I’m in a Disney movie or something, but I really think that’s it. Keith believes in us, and he absolutely will not give up.” He looks at her then, eyes serious. “And I don’t think that’s a bad thing.”

He sighs. “But what do I know, right? Just...talk to Keith after all of this. Please. You spend more time with Shiro than any of us, you haven't noticed _anything_ different?”

Allura has, and until now it hadn’t seemed like anything worth mentioning. Shiro, since returning from his capture, has had a harsher temper. He’s more prone to making risky decisions and dangerous plans. Allura has found herself mourning the tired, kind Shiro of before, but his differences had seemed understandable. Everyone experiences trauma differently.

That day, though. That Shiro had been someone Allura’s never seen. He’d been insensitive to the grief of the others, to the loss of Lance. He’d said such horrible things to Keith, when they fought. The fact that they fought at all is still hard for Allura to comprehend.

“Lance tried to tell me once, that Shiro was different. I think he was scared.” He looks down. “I didn’t listen to him. Just think about it,” Hunk says. “And...avoid Shiro if you can.”

He disconnects the call, leaving Allura in silence. Blue rumbles around her, the smallest hint of warmth blooming in Allura’s chest, and she presses a hand to it.

“He’s right, isn’t he?” she says, but Blue has no answer for her. Instead, Allura feels a secondhand sadness spread through her like ice water.

She thinks of Lance, back on Naxzela, saying _“I know you can do it. There’s a reason the blue lion chose you.”_

Lance had been unhappy, after the blue lion rejected him. It was obvious at the time, but Allura had been so enchanted by Blue she’d hardly noticed. Flying the blue lion had felt right in a way that Allura hadn’t felt in over ten thousand years. It was all so exhilarating, the battles, the connection. It was unlike anything Allura had felt before.

She never stopped to think that maybe Blue had been unhappy as well, that she missed Lance. She can feel it now, needle-sharp. Allura closes her eyes, pushing her own quintessence to tangle with Blue’s, comfort at the deepest level.

“I’ll get to the bottom of this,” she whispers to her lion. Blue makes a sound like a sigh. “I’ll find him. I’ll bring him back.”

The quiet moment is ended by another holoscreen, bursting forth in front of her. Allura’s eyes pop open.

“Uh, guys?” Pidge says, and her eyes are wide.

“What’s up?” Hunk says, his own screen popping into view. “We totally kicked their asses!”

“Yeah, sure,” Pidge says. “Only, uh, my scanners are picking up new activity. Like, a _lot_ of activity. Like, Zarkon-level activity, and–”

She’s interrupted, yelping in surprise, by the appearance of hundreds of ships in the distance, already shooting. The three lions separate, avoiding fire.

“Oh shit,” Hunk says. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh _shit.”_

“Coran!” Allura yells, twisting to avoid shots from a rapidly approaching squadron. She flies away, only to be pursued. “Coran, we need to call the other members of the coalition, we cannot handle this ourselves!”

Allura waits, eyeing Pidge and Hunk as they struggle under the onslaught of ships, but there’s no response.

“Coran!” she yells. “Coran? Coran where are you?”

Still no answer. Allura begins to feel dread creeping through her, from her stomach and up into her throat. She starts calling more frantically, ignoring Hunk and Pidge’s panicked attempts to calm her.

“Coran, _please,”_ she pleads. “Just answer me. Where is he? Shiro?”

She waits, holding her breath even as she dashes through the air, destroying as many ships as she can but not enough.

There’s a click, and the soft hum of static.

“Oh thank the gods,” Allura breathes. “Coran, please, are you there?”

There’s nothing for a moment, and then the call erupts in an explosion of sound. It’s loud, loud enough to hurt Allura’s ears. She hears Hunk and Pidge cry out in surprise and fear.

Allura is frozen, eyes wide. Blue takes a hit, and she rolls with it. Her hands shake against the controls.

It’s Coran, crying out in pain.

The call cuts out.

***

So here’s Lance’s second issue: this is a very big ship, and he does not have very much time.

He’s managed to get by unseen so far–take _that_ Blade of Marmora! Anyone can do it. But that’s not going to last very long if he just wanders aimlessly through the ship’s endless hallways.

 _“This is a Pidge thing,”_ he thinks. What Would Pidge Do?

She would hack into the ship, obviously. The problem is that Lance does not have the technology nor the hacking skill to pull that shit off, which means he’s going to have to improvise.

Lance is good at improvising, he’s a spontaneous guy. He can come up with a plan like _that_. It’s one of his many skills.

He hides in an alcove and waits for a patrol sentry to walk passed, then he shoots it with one of his many pistols and cuts off its arm with one of the many knives hidden on his person.

“ _Yaaaassss,”_ he cheers in a whisper, stashing the sentry’s body in the alcove. He uses the sentry arm to high five himself.

There’s a control panel nearby, a simple screen that, when activated with the sentry hand, shows a blueprint of the ship. Jackpot.

“You would think,” Lance mutters to himself, tapping at the screen in an attempt to find some sort of laboratory, “that when we got a Galra on the team they would close this particular loophole in their security.”

He finds it, a large area of the ship with no sort of distinction or classification. That has to be where Haggar is, and that’s where Lance will find his answers. He takes a quick moment to memorize the map.

There’s a sound from down the hall, and Lance freezes, reaching for one of his handguns and darting into another alcove. He presses himself as far in as he can, one hand on his gun and one over his mouth to muffle his breathing. He waits for whatever it is to pass.

There’s no sound for several long, agonizing seconds, and then a druid appears, floating gently down the hall. Lance feels a bead of sweat roll down his neck, shivering at the sight of the druid’s bright yellow eyes.

He keeps his hand over his mouth, but slowly levels the gun at the druid.

Lance has never seen a druid up close before. It’s...unsettling. It seems to have no feet, the only sound it makes is the gentle rustling of its cloak as it moves. The air around the druid crackles with energy, and Lance nearly chokes on the smell of ozone in the air.

He remembers when he visited his grandmother over the summer as a young child. He would sit at her feet as she sat in her old recliner and gossipped with whatever elderly neighbor had decided to drop by that day. They had mostly talked about boring stuff, like politics or the weather. But Lance stayed, waiting patiently, because between visits his grandmother told him stories. True stories, folktales, whatever she felt like that day. All of them had been designed to teach a lesson, of course, to scare little kids like Lance from disobeying their parents, or wandering to places where they didn’t belong. He’d loved them in the moment, pressed against his grandmother’s legs and hanging onto every word. He’d hated them later, crawling into bed with his parents after a nightmare.

He remembers his grandmother’s advice now, arm locked in place, finger on the trigger. “ _Spirits_ ,” his grandmother had told him, “ _are tired, restless things. They do not belong, and they know they don’t. They have no feet._ ” She had lifted her slippered feet, wiggling them at Lance, “ _because they have no home in which to rest them, and the longer they wander, they angrier they get._ ”

Lance adjusts his grip, closing one eye.

_“If you think what you see is a spirit, look for its feet. That is how you will know.”_

The druid drifts, graceful. Lance feels clammy with dread. His arm is steady, but his knees are knocking together.

“ _And if what you are seeing is a spirit,_ mijito _, remember: you have feet. You run._ ”

The druid stops.

Lance holds his breath. His heart is beating loud in his ears, but he can hear the druid emitting a low hum, deep and throaty. Its cloak shifts, and Lance can see a hint of twisted flesh. There’s a glimpse of one bruise-gray arm.

He holds his position, ready, but after a terrifyingly long moment, the druid moves on. Lance holds the position for a minute longer, then drops it, breathing heavily.

He can’t be sure if the druid actually left, so he waits until he’s sure the thing has to be gone before leaving the alcove.

“I am _so_ fucking lucky,” he mutters to himself, gathering his wits and focusing on the original plan. He thinks maybe the security on this ship is so lax because it’s literally crawling with druids.

Lance jogs lightly to the end of the hall. “Left. No, right,” he says, turning right. “Just gotta avoid the scary witch monsters. Just gotta outrun the ghosties.”

He makes it to the end, pressing himself against the wall to peer down another hall. “It’s like Pacman,” he says to himself, running down the hall when the coast is clear. “There is no difference between what I am doing and Pacman.”

Down the next hallway is a small group of sentries, stomping noisily along. He hides until they move passed.

Another hallway, another druid. Lance ducks out of view.

“Cool, cool, cool,” he says. He moves quickly. He’s sure his luck is going to run out soon, and he wants to at least see what Haggar’s keeping in that classified portion of the ship before that happens.

He almost makes it.

It’s inevitable that his Super Sneaky Strategy would fail, and when it does it fails rather spectacularly. He’s smack dab in the middle of a corridor, muttering to himself as always, when a druid turns the corner. There’s no hiding from it, it sees him immediately.

Lance lifts his gun and fires three shots through the druid’s mask in a cluster of holes.

The druid vanishes, its mask dropping with a clatter to the floor. It reappears again directly in front of him. Lance yelps, stumbling back as it advances upon him. Its face is a grotesque whorl of twisted flesh and bulging eyes, lurching forward to breath hot, acrid air into Lance’s face.

Lance, for a split second, is frozen in fear. The thing is making the droning noise, the sound rising in pitch until it’s nearly a screech. Dark, rotting hands reach from beneath the cloak, crackling with purple electricity, and Lance snaps out of it.

He says, “Dude, _gross_. You need a mint or something?” Then he shoots it five more times.

It vanishes with every shot, but Lance is fast. He doesn’t bother waiting for it to get closer to him, dashing around it and towards his destination. The air behind him bursts in a wave of heat, and he ducks. The purple bolt of energy sails over his head. He skids into another hallway just as another is fired. He doesn’t bother turning back to return fire, as he knows by now that his shots are unlikely to do anything if it keeps teleporting all over the damn place. He isn’t running long when the ship erupts in alarms.

The druid screams behind him, cloak billowing as it pursues him. The discordant clanking of running sentries sounds from a different corridor. Lance loses track of where he is in the ship.

He curses, skidding to a stop and pulling the larger rifle from his back. He mows the sentries down as they round the corner, then twists on one heel to shoot at the druid. The druid bobs and weaves, and Lance follows it, shooting all the way. Lance is never quite fast enough.

The druid sends another bolt of purple lightning at him, and he throws himself to the side, rolling up and onto his feet as soon as he can. The walls light up in flashes as the druid attacks, throwing twin bolts from its two rotten hands. Lance is helpless against the onslaught, inching further and further back towards the inescapable walls of the ship.  

There’s only so much he can avoid, and when he’s hit it’s a pain unlike anything he’s ever experienced. He can’t scream. He has no breath for it. It feels as though his heart has seized in his chest, squeezing painfully. He is thrown backwards into the wall, and he can feel it give around him. He slides to the ground, gun falling from his hands and skidding down the hallway.

Lance looks up at the oncoming druid, fear and pain twisting his gut. He scrambles at his side for one of his handguns, and spots something off about the wall behind him. There’s a slight opening, revealed by the dent in the metal made by Lance’s poor, unsuspecting head.

He turns back to look at the druid. It’s nearly upon him, now. He can see the skin of its “face” bubbling, as though something is moving just under the skin, looking for an opening to escape. Lance stares it down while reaching into the pouch at his thigh.

There will be more sentries soon, but Lance is running out of time. This plan is risky, but if it works out it’ll be worth it. He hopes.

The druid stops in front of him, the noise it’s emitting is ear-splitting. It reaches out, placing its hands on the sides of Lance’s head, icy fingers running through his hair.

Lance fights to keep control over his rapid rapid breathing, swallowing his fear. He reaches behind himself and places the bomb against the wall.

The druid activates the energy in its palms, pressed against Lance’s head.

Lance does scream this time. He can’t help it. He’s seeing white spots in a sea of neon purple. He reaches forward blindly, grasping at the druid’s cloak, desperate for something to hold onto. The druid bares down on him, shoulders hunching, and it takes all of Lance’s strength to pull it forward by the cloak, as though pulling it down for a kiss. Then he throws himself to the side, pushing the druid down to where he’d been sitting.

He grabs his other handgun, shooting it until it lets go of him. Lance plants one boot against its chest, kicking it into the wall and stumbling backwards as far as he can go.

He’s not quite fast enough, and the bomb detonates when he’s still relatively close to it. The druid explodes, and Lance is thrown.

When he gets up again, his entire body is stinging with burns and the needle-sharp pain in his nerves after being electrocuted. His limbs feel numb as he painstakingly pulls himself up from the ground. His rifle is nearby, and he grabs it. His fingers feel big and clumsy around it.

“What is _up_ with space and me getting blown up?” he says, grimacing at the mess of pureed druid all over the walls. Where he’d placed the bomb, there is large dark hole, exposing a room that Lance doesn’t remember seeing on the ship’s blueprint.

The alarms are still blaring, and more enemies are coming. The room Lance had blown open is dark. He lifts his rifle to his shoulder and walks in.

***

Keith is waiting in Matt’s room on the castle when the lights go out.

Matt had told him to wait there, until he could figure out what to do with Keith that _wasn’t_ putting him in a cryopod. Matt had left not long after that, presumably to wait with the other rebellion members in case Voltron needed backup.

Keith had been feeling particularly useless, imagining his friends out there fighting while he sat twiddling his thumbs in hiding, so when the room cuts into darkness he’s almost thankful for the distraction. Almost.

He stands, luxite sword in hand. All of the lights are out, not even the dim security lights that turn on when the castle is in night mode are activated. He pauses only to pull off Lance’s jacket, unwilling to damage it further, the way he had earlier in the fight with Shiro. Keith folds it over onto the bed, pressing his fingers to his lips and then to the fabric. He leaves the room by the light of his suit and his sword.

He activates his mask, its night vision capabilities unveiling the ship in shades of black and green. Keith switches on his comm. He and Matt had connected their comms to each other before Matt left, just in case.

“Matt,” he says. “Matt, you there? What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure yet,” Matt says immediately. Keith can hear the sound of slightly panicked people in the background. “We’re going to check it out.”

“Me too,” Keith says, bulldozing over Matt’s sudden protests. “No, something’s wrong.”

Matt huffs, the sound crackling over the connection. “Fine,” he says. “But be careful, okay?”

The connection ends, and Keith is alone. He looks up and down the hall, before deciding to head in the direction of the bridge. The ship is eerily silent, its ever-present hum dulled. Keith feels his Marmora training kicking in, and his footsteps become lighter, he becomes less present.

Keith’s comms crackle to life. “Keith!” Matt says, and he sounds weirdly breathless. “We’ve just reached the bridge. You need to get here _now_...it’s...brea...ro...”

“Matt?” Keith stops moving, tapping at the side of his mask. “Matt. You’re breaking up, I can’t–”

The comm bursts with a shriek of feedback, and Keith hears Matt scream “ _Coran–”_ before the connection dies.

“ _Shit_ ,” Keith says. He turns to run, only to freeze in his steps. At the end of the hallway is a figure, distinguished in the night vision filter only by the shape of a person and its white, glowing eyes.

There’s a loud humming noise, and the security lights of the castle turn on, bathing the hallway in blue light. Keith’s night vision deactivates automatically, and he’s faced with a hulking Galra soldier, smiling sharply at him.

The soldier steps forward, and from behind comes several more, turning a corner with weapons raised.

Keith slides his foot back, raises his sword, and charges.

***

The room is huge.

The alarms aren’t sounding in it, leaving Lance in a weird kind of silence where he can still faintly hear the alarms in the distance, but it’s almost as though someone has stuffed cotton in his ears.

Well, maybe that was the bomb.

He steps carefully through the dark room, eyes wide and mostly unseeing. He can catch the suggestion of shapes in his peripheral vision, but he can’t be sure what is really there and what is just his overactive imagination playing tricks on him.

There’s a light in the distance, and Lance is drawn to it helplessly. Beneath his feet he can feel the ship around him start to gently vibrate, as though it has started moving. Not good. He picks up speed, jogging lightly.

He reaches the light source, a single magenta bulb over a heavy door. There doesn't seem to be much security, but Lance guesses a bajillion ghost witches and a secret entrance is enough. Lance examines the door, then looks back at the blackness from where he came, then back at the door. He says, “Well, in for a penny,” and shoots the door’s lock to pieces. The door swings open, creaking loudly, and Lance steps in gun-first.

Lights flicker on, activated by the movement, and Lance gapes at the room around him.

There are giant glass tubes lining the walls, the liquid inside them glowing faintly green. Thick, twisted cables lay on the floor, crossing over and under each other. There’s the faint sound of liquid bubbling and boiling under the louder beeping of monitors.

There are… _things_ inside of them. Creatures, maybe. Tangled and scarred balls of flesh and bone. Lance walks up to one of the tubes, attracted to movement from within it. Upon closer inspection, Lance is horrified to find a human hand protruding from a lump of unidentified skin. The hand brings each individual finger to its palm, one by one, over and over again.

Lance staggers back, almost tripping over a cable. He turns to the next tube and sees a pair of eyes staring out at him. They’re a familiar gray color.

Each and every tube, they are all failed attempts at creating a human body. There are some that are large masses, limbs and cartilage smashed together in a horrible convergence of meat. Lance sees hands, feet, ears. A set of lipless teeth grins at him in the dim light. A beating heart thumps at him from another container, an intricate map of veins and capillaries swaying gently around it like a spider’s web.

Lance stumbles through the room, nauseous. He and Keith had theorized a hundred possibilities for what the Shiro back at the castle could be, but not even their wildest ideas could have come close to this. Lance can feel his breathing come quicker. He wants to close his eyes. He wants to go _home_.

He trips again on a cable, and notices for the first time that the cables lead into a different side room. Lance swallows, adjusting his grip on the gun and taking a step forward. The tips of his fingers feel numb, and the palms of his hands are sweaty. There’s a shuffling sound coming from the room, a faint rustling that has Lance’s hair standing on end. He pauses before he goes in, biting his lip. He’s not sure he wants to know what’s in there, but what choice does he have? His friends are in danger, and the longer he takes to get to the bottom of this the worse it’s going to get for them.

He takes a deep breath, steeling himself, and walks in.

It’s...not what he’s expecting.

***

Keith rounds a corner at full speed, breathing heavily. The castleship is crawling with Galra soldiers. He’s had to fight off so many that he’s lost count.

His mind is a wild thing, a frenzy of thoughts. How were they able to board? What is happening outside? Are the others okay? These are the questions running through his head as he cuts, slashes, and stabs his way through the castle. He’s nervous in a way he’s never been. He’s distressed and worried and scared. But, above all, he’s angry.

This is Keith’s _home_ , one of the only ones he’s ever had. This is a safe place, a happy place. This is where his friends are. This is where Lance is. This is where he sleeps.

His home is being destroyed. His blood boils as he comes across a room riddled with scorch marks.

Keith runs up to a squadron of Galra soldiers, taking two steps and leaping at them. He’s quick enough that they don’t stand much of a chance, and soon enough he’s running through the halls again. He attempts to establish connection with Matt’s comm again, but there’s nothing on the other side.

He sighs, frustrated. He thinks about his friends out there, fighting with only three active lions. He thinks about Matt and Coran, somewhere on the ship. He thinks about Lance, wherever he is. He runs faster.

This ship lurches to one side, and he stumbles, catching himself against the wall. The lights flicker and cut out again. His sword lights up the space around him, but he can’t see anything in front of him or in back of him. He curses, not waiting for night mode to activate on his mask before moving again in the direction of the ship’s main control room. He can hear the sound of the battle outside, like the soft rumble of thunder in the distance.

His night vision filter flicks on, and then fizzles out. He huffs impatiently, lifting a hand to the controls at his ear. He attempts to manually activate the filter, and the picture bursts in a shower of pixels. He’s left in the black, his mask completely useless.

Keith curses again, looking up and down the hallway with unease. He wishes, for a moment, that his Galra genes gave him something useful like night vision, rather than a shitty childhood.

He pushes through, unwilling to let this slow him down. He moves more cautiously, makes his steps nearly silent. At least he knows that if he can’t see the Galra, they can’t see him either.

He finishes the trip in stops and starts, alternately fighting the Galra roaming the halls and sneaking passed them. He would like to fight each and every one of them for this, for violating this place, but he can’t allow himself to get tired.

He has a feeling the real fight is going to happen soon.

When he reaches the bridge, he’s surprised to see a faint light emitting from the open doorway. He approaches silently, longing for the security his mask gave him in situations like this. He can hear a loud, discordant noise coming from the room, crackling like a static. He reaches the edge of the doorway, grasping it and pulling forward to peer inside.

The castle’s crystal is emitting the barest hint of light, bathing the room in cool blue. Shiro is standing in the center of it, hunched forward. Matt stands in front of him, panting. He’s holding his electric staff in front of him defensively, and Keith can see from where he is that Matt is injured. He moves carefully, favoring his ribs.

There are several bodies strewn throughout the room, likely Matt’s rebel allies. Keith’s stomach twists as he also recognizes Coran amongst the fallen, lying on his side several feet away. Keith can’t see his face, Coran is turned away. Dread rolls down Keith’s spine, hot and sharp.

Shiro lurches forward suddenly at Matt, who flinches hard, raising his weapon higher. Shiro, who had only twitched in Matt’s direction, laughs. It’s a dark sound, conveyed only in the wavering pitch of the sound ringing through the room. Shiro’s body jerks unnaturally with each guffaw. There’s something wrong with his Galra arm, it’s almost as though it’s broken. It droops lifeless from his shoulder, swinging wildly with Shiro’s movement.

Shiro stops, frozen in place. From where he stands, Keith can see the skin of Shiro’s back, rolling and bulging. Shiro turns his head, just a hint of one eye peeking over one shoulder at Keith. The hand of his Galra arm twitches wildly.

“ _There_ he is,” Shiro says, and Keith knows for sure now that Shiro is the source of the noise, because his voice is an extension of it, nearly indecipherable. “Come to join us?”

“Keith,” Matt says, never looking away from Shiro. “You need to get out of here. You need to contact the coalition.”

“Yes, Keith, go. Run away,” Shiro says. “Run away. Run away. Run away.”

“Shut the _fuck_ up,” Matt yells. “Keith, I’m serious. We need help. This... _thing_ has done something to all of our communication systems. You need to go.”

It’s then that Keith notices the scene outside of the castle through the wide viewport of the bridge.

There are countless Galra ships, too many to comprehend. Keith can see the green, blue, and yellow lions, struggling to hold them back. They’re taking heavy damage, crumbling under the weight. Keith can’t breathe in the wake of his sudden paralyzing fear.

There’s a cry of pain, and Keith is torn away from the devastating scene outside. Shiro has Matt by the neck, lifting him off of the ground.

“There is nothing you can do,” Shiro says, and he isn’t looking at Keith, but Keith knows Shiro is addressing him. “There is nowhere to go. Only three lions, only one ship. All it took was a small infiltration.” He tightens his grip on Matt’s neck, and Matt gasps for air. Shiro turns to look at Keith, and the skin of his face is drooping and slack. Something long and thin like a worm inches its way around under it, distorting Shiro’s features. “And you let it happen. You left.”

Keith’s fingers tighten around the hilt of his sword, and he wills his limbs to stop shaking. An infiltration, he’d said. A violation. This is Keith’s home. This is where Red and Black live, and where Keith plays Killbot with Pidge. This is where Keith lived with his brother, when he’d thought he’d never see Shiro again. This is where Keith first kissed Lance, and told him he loved him. This is Keith’s home, and this is Keith’s family. He will defend it.

He’s across the room before he can even register moving, swinging his sword wide at the arm holding Matt off of the ground.

Shiro drops Matt, who cries out hoarsely as he hits the ground. Keith doesn’t hesitate, slashing again and pushing Shiro further away.

He keeps his sword arm up and pointed at Shiro, bending to help Matt stand. Keith says, “You go, I’ll take care of this. I’m not injured, I can still fight.”

“Keith–” Matt says.

“No, go,” Keith says, turning back to face Shiro, who has resumed his twitching. “My ship is in the hangar with the pods. It’ll be the fastest.” Matt doesn’t bother objecting again, running as fast as he can out of the room.

“Oh,” Shiro says, pausing in his movements. His neck cracks unpleasantly as he turns his head inquisitively. “Again? So eager to fight me. I will not hold back this time, there is no princess or yellow paladin to save you.”

“Shut up, dickhead,” Keith growls, adjusting his stance. “Fucking fight me already.”

Shiro smiles, reaching over to slide his sagging arm wetly into place.

Then, he charges.

***

There are a lot of things that Shiro wants.

Shiro wants to see sunlight again. He doesn’t care what sun it is, though Earth’s is obviously preferable. He just misses the warmth, that golden feeling. Even the feeling when the sun is a bit too much, stinging the surface of your skin. He misses it all.

Shiro wants his dog. Some days he just lays back and remembers the way Donut would trip over himself whenever Shiro came home to visit, or the way Donut would lay on his back with his legs spread wide open, kicking as he dreamt. Sometimes, Shiro thinks he can hear the distant sound of Donut’s claws scratching on the floor as he scampers in Shiro’s direction. Sometimes it’s clear enough that Shiro bends down at the knees, arms spread out, waiting for him.

Shiro wants his little brother, if only to know that Keith is safe. When Keith had first come to stay with Shiro and his parents as a young teenager, he’d been so skinny. He barely ate anything. Shiro doesn’t know if Keith is eating. He likes to think Keith is back on the castle, eating Hunk’s food and being happy and healthy. He likes to think Keith isn’t that skinny, feral kid anymore, but the pale thirteen year old sitting in the corner of his cell tells him otherwise.

Shiro wants his fucking arm back, because it was a dick move for Haggar to take it in the first place, only to give him a new one, and then take _that_ arm too.

Above all, what Shiro wants is to see a friendly face.

He sees plenty of faces, sure. He sees Haggar’s ugly, dried out, evil face pretty much every day, along with the blank faces of her minions. He sees faces in his cell. Sometimes it’s his parents, staring sadly through the glass. Sometimes it’s Keith, fourteen and sniffing up his bloody nose after getting into his fourth fight in a month. Sometimes it’s the other paladins and the Alteans, emotionless, staring at him with disappointment. Sometimes it’s Matt and Sam Holt sprawled on the floor in front of him, eyes open and unseeing. Sometimes it’s all of them, banging on the glass of his cell and screaming. They’re always angry. They’re so angry.

He wants to see someone look happy. He can’t quite remember what it is to smile. There are no mirrors in his cell. The glass that separates him from the rest of the world is too cloudy to see a reflection. The water they give him comes in a pouch. He sits and practices his expressions, feeling the way his face changes with his hand. No matter what he does, it feels wrong. He needs someone to show him how it’s done. His memories are dulling, fading like old photographs. He’s scared they’ll leave him completely.

When Lance walks into the room that his cell is in, he doesn’t give it much thought. He’s used to Lance visiting him, at this point. He continues his exercises.

Lance says, “Shiro?”  


Shiro doesn’t say anything. He stopped responding a long time ago.

Lance says, “Holy... _Shiro?_ Is that really you?”

Shiro stops stretching, rolling his shoulder. He tries to stay fit, in case there’s ever a chance that a miracle happens and he’s ever able to escape this hellhole. But he’s skinny, now. Where he used to be broad shouldered and well-muscled, he’s become a withered, fading thing. He can see the bones of his fingers. If he lifts the tattered shirt they gave him, he can count his ribs.

Lance walks up to the glass, and Shiro hates when they do that. He hates the feeling, like he’s in an exhibit, like he’s a zoo animal. He goes to sit in his corner and wait for Lance to leave.

“What the fuck?” Lance says quietly. He reaches up and presses the palm of one hand to the glass. “Can you hear me?” he asks.

Shiro sits in his corner.

“I’m going to get you out of here,” Lance says. “Don’t worry. Just gimme a…”

He steps back, pulls a handgun from a holster at his hip, and shoots the glass.

Shiro gapes as the wall crumbles to pieces.

Lance steps over the frame that once held the glass, lowering his gun. Shiro can feel himself pressing back against the wall, as far as he can go. Lance approaches him slowly, boots crunching on the glass. Shiro pulls his bare feet closer to him, away from the shards.

“Shiro,” Lance says, and his voice is softer now. He looks confused, but there’s nothing about him that feels hostile. “Shiro, is it really you?”

Shiro says, “Who else would it be?” and his voice is so unbelievably hoarse.

Then, Lance smiles. Shiro can recognize it, now. His face brightens, radiant like the sun. Shiro can feel his own lips twitching at the sight of it, and it’s such a relief.

Lance laughs a little, and the sound is so nice in Shiro’s ears. “You’d be surprised,” Lance says, right before dropping to his knees and pulling Shiro into a hug.

Shiro’s eyes widen, and he pulls his arm up to grasp at the back of Lance’s head. He feels warm, and alive. He’s never been able to touch them before. He’s never seen one smile. Shiro weaves his fingers through Lance’s hair, and it’s soft.

“ _Lance,_ ” Shiro breathes, pulling Lance as close to him as he possibly can, basking in that warmth.

“That’s the name,” Lance says, and Shiro can hear wetness in his voice, like he’s crying. Shiro pushes him away, staring up at him in shock.

“What are you doing here?” Shiro asks.

Lance snorts, wiping at his teary eyes. “What am I...what are _you_ doing here? We thought...holy shit, you’ve been here over a _year_ –”

Shiro blinks at him. “Has it been that long?” he says weakly. He reaches up to touch Lance’s cheek. He’s _warm_. And wounded. “You’re hurt,” Shiro says, frowning.

“Yeah, well,” Lance says nonsensically, shrugging.

Shiro says, “Is Keith eating?”

Lance says, “Not enough.”

Shiro nods solemnly, rubbing his hand against the back of his neck. “And where are we?”

“Haggar’s ship.”

“What are we doing on _Haggar’s ship?”_

“Long story,” Lance says. He pats at Shiro’s shoulders. “But it’s time for us to go. Can you like, stand?”

Shiro nods, getting up. Lance looks down at Shiro’s bare feet, and then around at the mess of glass he made. “Ah shit,” he says. “Should have thought that through.”

And Shiro, miracle of miracles, laughs for the first time in what is apparently over a year.

***

The yellow lion takes another hit, and Hunk feels his stomach lurch.

She rolls with it, of course. She’s tough as nails, his girl. Yellow doesn’t take shit from anyone, at any time. But even then, she can’t hold on forever.

Hunk opens comms again. “Any luck, Allura?” he asks. He doesn’t look away from the viewport, twisting Yellow into a corkscrew and through several Galra fighter ships.

“No, not yet,” Allura says. She looks gray with worry, her lips are pale. For the first time since Hunk’s known her, Allura looks less than radiant. Even her bright eyes seem dull.

“Right,” Hunk says. He should end the connection then, but he’s reluctant to be alone. The situation is becoming more dire by the second, especially since the castle went dark a while ago, dead in the water.

Pidge’s face pops up into view, and she looks a little worse for wear. Green doesn’t have the armor Blue and Yellow does.

“Give me good news, Pidge,” Hunk says.

“Sorry, can’t,” Pidge says. “There’s another ship approaching. Something big. Like, Zarkon big.”

“Look, Pidge, if it’s not good news I don’t want to hear it,” Hunk says irritably.

Pidge shrugs, and her picture cuts out. Hunk turns back to Allura. “I don’t want to say that everything is going to be okay,” Hunk says, “because I don’t know if it will be, and I’m not about to lie to you. That doesn’t help anyone.”

Allura huffs a slight breath of laughter. “I appreciate it, Hunk,” she says. Hunk watches through his viewport as the blue lion does a complicated maneuver, destroying a cruiser.

Hunk says, “The inspirational speeches are kind of Lance’s thing.”

“Yes,” Allura says, and her eyes are downcast. “They are, aren’t they?”

“So I’m just going to tell you to imagine whatever Lance would say, and we’re going to get through this, okay?”

“Okay, Hunk.”

“Okay.” Hunk moves to cut the comms off, ready to place his full attention on the fight, when another face appears.

“Holy... _Matt?”_

Pidge’s face appears in a holoscreen. “Matt, you _asshole_ , what are you doing? What’s going on? Why is the castle down?”

Matt, who is apparently flying a ship, though Hunk doesn’t know which one, looks grim. “Well,” Matt says, obviously distracted, and possibly in pain? “What we were afraid of came true.”

Pidge says, “Are you _hurt?”_

“What were you afraid of?” Allura asks. “What is happening on the castle?”

“Shiro is happening on the castle,” Matt says. “He’s lost it. He killed...He killed a lot of people. He’s in control of the ship, and he’s done something that disables all communication to and from it. The ship is crawling with Galra, and I think more are coming. Keith helped me get away so I could contact you guys and the rest of the coalition.”

Allura doesn’t say anything for a long moment, and when she does, it’s, “And Coran?”

Matt looks at her with pity. “He’s...I don’t know. He was trying to fight Shiro away from the controls. Shiro used his arm. I couldn’t really...I was fighting too. I had to get away.”

Allura’s shoulders slump.

“Keith is fighting him now,” Matt says. “I don’t know how...Shiro isn’t _right_. I don’t know what he is. He’s not human, that’s for sure.” He looks at the camera, straight into Hunk’s eyes. “I don’t know how long Keith will be able to hold him.”

Allura remains slumped for a moment, and then she straightens. She holds her head up high and nods in her holoscreen. “Go,” she says. “We’ll cover you. We won’t be able to hold them off for much longer.”

Matt nods. “Understood,” he says, and then his face loosens. He says, “Pidge, you be careful, okay?”

Pidge nods in her lion, and Hunk can see the beginnings of tears forming in her eyes. “Will do,” she says. “You too, Matt. I’ll be here.”

She cuts her feed, and Matt follows soon after. Hunk is about to shut it off himself, when he catches the look in Allura’s eyes.

“Allura,” he says cautiously. “You okay?”

Allura, sitting stiffly in her seat, nods. There’s a fire to her that Hunk is unfamiliar with. It’s not her usual brand of heroism, that courage and resourcefulness that makes it so easy to follow her orders. Allura looks wild, crackling with nervous energy. Her eyes have gone flat, her mouth a line.

“Okay,” Hunk says.

“Shiro did this.”

“Yes.” Hunk swallows. “Yeah, he did.”

Allura nods again. “He will pay for this,” she says.

Hunk huffs, turning his focus fully back to the fight. He thinks of Shiro in the black lion’s hangar earlier, eyes lit up in purple. He thinks of Lance, asking, _“Is there something wrong with Shiro?”_

His grip on the thrusters tightens. “Yeah,” Hunk says. “Yeah, he will.”

***

The first thing Lance does is toe off his boots and pull off his socks.

He wishes he could give Shiro his boots as well, watching shiro carefully slide the socks over his feet. There’s a fine tremor running through Shiro, and when Lance hugged him he had been freezing. If Lance could, he would strip off all of his clothes and give them to Shiro, but they still need to get off of this ship, and Lance doubts he’d be very successful in only his boxers.

After Shiro’s feet are covered, they argue for a minute about Lance carrying him over the glass, and Shiro eventually concedes to a (short) piggyback ride. Just long enough for Lance to get him over the glass.

Lance is worried. Obviously he’s worried. Shiro is stick thin, wiry where he’d been broad. He hadn’t seemed to realize Lance was real when Lance first came in, and his eyes keep darting back and forth, all around the room. Lance just keeps telling himself that he’ll be okay as soon as they get out of there. They’re going to show the others that the Shiro in the castle isn’t the right one, and after they shoot that Shiro into space they can focus on helping the real one heal.

Or at least, Lance _thinks_ this is the real Shiro.

Lance drops Shiro back to his feet on the other side of the cell, then turns to face him.

He says, “Wait. _Prove_ to me that you’re the real Shiro.”

Shiro looks completely dumbfounded. “What?” he asks. “What do you mean?”

Lance thinks rapidly. He can’t trust Shiro to tell him something only Shiro would know, because Not-Shiro had all of his memories. He can’t physically prove that it’s Shiro.

He says, “Shiro, would you ever hit me?”

Shiro’s eyes widen. “What are you talking about?”

Lance swallows, reaching to rest a hand on his gun. Shiro doesn’t miss the action, his eyes trained on Lance’s hip. “Answer the question, Shiro.”

“Of course I wouldn’t,” Shiro scoffs.

Not good enough. “I need the truth,” Lance says. “I need to know whether or not it’s safe to bring you back with me. What has been happening to you in the time since we last saw each other? What do you remember?”

Shiro looks away, blinking. It seems hard for him to concentrate. “We were fighting,” he says eventually. “We were fighting Zarkon.”

“And then?”

“And then I was _here_ ,” Shiro says, grasping at his hair frustratedly. His hair is longer than it had been the last time Lance saw him, the undercut growing out awkwardly, but it looks as though he’s been getting regular haircuts. “I have no idea what happened. I...I couldn’t escape.”

“They were constantly poking and prodding me, taking tissue samples and bioscans and...and…” He takes a few steady breaths. “I thought I’d been here all along,” he says. “I thought...I thought Voltron was a...a hallucination. A dream. I never escaped the arenas, they just took me here to perform more experiments.”

He looks up at Lance, and his eyes are wide and vulnerable. It makes Lance uncomfortable to see him in this way, like Lance is the one with answers, the one in charge. “Please be real,” Shiro says. “I would never lay a hand on you. Please. Just please be real.”

Lance drops his hand from his hip, reaching up to grasp at the sides of Shiro’s neck. “I am,” Lance says. “I’m so sorry. I’m real. I had to make sure–”

“What has _happened_ since I’ve been in here?” Shiro pleads, ducking his head.

“It’s...I need to show you,” Lance says. He starts to lead Shiro to the door. “This is...This is hard to explain.”

When they leave the side room where Shiro’s cell had been, Shiro stops in his tracks.

“The reason it took so long for us to find you,” Lance says softly, “is because we thought we already had.”

Shiro starts to shake his head.

“It’s...I think he’s a clone?” Lance says. “I think that’s what’s happening here. He isn’t right he...he doesn’t treat us like you did. He’s cruel.”

Shiro turns to look at Lance, shocked.

“What did he do?” Shiro says.

Lance shrugs. “He doesn’t like me very much,” he says. “The team maybe thinks I’m dead, a little bit.”

Shiro opens his mouth, and then closes it. His jaw clenches as he surveys the room around them.

He says, “Give me your gun.”

“Uhhh,” Lance says.

Shiro doesn’t wait for a concrete answer, reaching to take one of Lance’s handguns out of its holster. Before Lance can say anything, Shiro is shooting.

He shoots all of them, his arm steady, and thick liquid and body parts spill out. Lance can’t stop him, he’s like a man possessed. He doesn’t stop until each and every container is destroyed, its occupant dead on the ground.

When Shiro is done, he seems to be struggling to breathe. Each inhale shakes and each exhale chokes. Lance gives him a moment before approaching.

“Shiro, we need to go,” Lance says softly, trudging through the puddles and viscera.

“When we get out of here, we’re destroying this ship,” Shiro says. “She can’t...I won't have her using me anymore.”

“Alright, yes,” Lance says, slightly alarmed. “But we need to–”

The ship lurches, and they stumble. Lance stands alert.

“We have to go,” Lance says. He pulls the rifle off of his back. “You keep that.” He nods at the gun in Shiro’s hand. “But stay behind me, okay?”

Shiro nods, and together they set off.

***

Pidge sits back heavily in her seat, feeling like the air has been punched out of her.

That’s Haggar’s ship.

It’s huge, almost as big as Zarkon’s. Pidge knows it’s Haggar, because there is a miasma of purple energy around it, and also because their comms are working again.

The cockpit rings with the sound of someone laughing, loud enough to hurt Pidge’s ears.

“What is that?” Hunk asks.

Allura just sits forward in her seat. “Coran!” she calls into the comm. “Keith! Is this coming from the castle? Answer me.”

The noise continues, but Pidge can hear the sound of metal against metal under it. And then Keith’s voice breaks through.

“Not the best time,” he yells over the noise.

The voice stops laughing. “The witch is here,” it says. “This is the end. You have lost, Keith, like Lance did. All alone and dying. You lose, Keith. Run away run away run away.”

“Keith, Haggar’s ship is here,” Hunk says. “We don’t have the numbers or firepower to take it down, what should we–”

There’s a harsh noise on the comms, and a gut-wrenching cry of pain from Keith. Pidge’s breath hitches. This is all too much, things are crumbling before her eyes, and there’s nothing she can do about it. She wants to hide, like a little kid. She wants to close her eyes and cover her ears. Green sends calming thoughts, soothing her nerves. It doesn’t help as much as it used to.

“Get out of here,” Keith says. “You guys need to go. We have no other choice. Save the lions we have, I’ll take care of this.”

“Keith–” Allura starts.

“We can’t wait for Matt,” Keith says, and it sounds like he’s struggling. “We don’t have a choice. Just fucking _go_.”

The thing says, “Run away run away run away.”

Allura opens her mouth and closes it, failing to find words. Pidge closes her eyes, feeling Green rock with the force of yet another hit. Keith is right, she knows he is. Allura knows he is. They need to get away with as much as they can.

Hunk says, “No.”

“Hunk–”

“No! When has splitting up _ever_ done us any good?” Hunk says. He looks vicious, mad in a way Pidge has never seen before. “Look at what happens when we leave each other behind. We lost Shiro and ended up with a monster in his place. We let Lance go out alone and who _knows_ where he is!”

Hunk has never been good at keeping control over his emotions. His voice becomes shakier as he talks, fighting back the tears building in his eyes. “We’re not going to leave you, Keith. We’re stronger together. I’m not going to lose anymore friends. It fucking _sucks._ ” He swipes at his eyes. “I don’t care what you say. And when this is over, you’re going to...you’re going to come back, okay? To the castle. You can still help the Blade but...we’re going to stick together and find Lance, and then you and him can be all gross and domestic all over the castle.”

“We need to think _realistically_ , Hunk,” Keith says. “I don’t want to lose you either, just please. Go. I can’t hold him for much longer.”

“I just told you I’m not going to do that,” Hunk says. “So fucking deal with it.”

He cuts off his comms. Pidge and Allura gape at each other for a moment. Then Allura looks away from Pidge, gasping.

“Hunk, _no_ ,” she says, and Pidge looks out in the distance.

The yellow lion is flying as fast as it can, smashing through ships. Pidge curses, hurrying to push the green lion in that direction.

Hunk is flying straight for Haggar’s ship.

***

Lance and Shiro run through the halls, and it’s considerably easier to get out than it had been to get in.

“Where the hell is everybody?” Lance asks. “I mean, I’m not complaining–”

“Something’s happening outside the ship,” Shiro says. He’s breathing heavily, obviously not used to this amount of exercise. Lance feels a little bad, but they can’t really afford to slow down. “Maybe they’re...out there.”

Lance nods, turning a corner. He’s struggling to remember where things are, where they keep their ships.

He keeps running, only stopping when he registers that Shiro is no longer right behind him. He whirls around. “Shiro?” he calls, frantic.

Shiro is standing a few feet back, staring into an open doorway. Lance jogs up to him, gun ready for whatever Shiro is looking at in that room.

It appears to be an observation deck, big wide windows extending in a large semicircle. Lance drops his gun to his side, gaping at the view.

Outside the ship are three Voltron lions, fighting an unprecedented amount of ships. In the distance, the Castle of Lions floats, darkened.

Lance says, “Well, that’s lucky.”

“What is happening?” Shiro says, he looks distraught. They watch as the lions break apart, the yellow lion heading straight for them.

“I don’t know,” Lance says. “But if I had to guess, the other Shiro has something to do with it. Let’s go.”

They leave the room, running faster than they had before.

“That was,” Shiro says, panting. “That was the blue lion.”

“Yep.”

“But you’re here.”

“Yep.”

“Who?”

“Look, we had to make some...adjustments...when you disappeared,” Lance says. There’s a large crash against the ship, which Lance guesses is Hunk putting the fear of God in Haggar. “I’ll explain it later, this is _really_ not the time.”

Shiro nods, but Lance can tell he still has questions. Lance decides that it would be better to focus on not getting murdered by his best friend before catching Shiro up on over a year’s worth of drama. He pulls a communicator out from his pocket, grateful that he thought to bring it. He dials as they run, keeping one eye out for sentries or druids.

Matt answers without looking. “Not a good time, Lance.”

“Fucking same,” Lance says. “I need you to call off Hunk.”

“Is that _Matt?”_ Shiro asks.

Matt finally looks at his comm. “What...Shiro?”

“Surprise! I found the real one,” Lance says, turning away from where Shiro is peeking over his shoulder. “But we’re on Haggar’s ship, and the yellow lion is going wild on us. I’d appreciate if she would stop.”

“No can do, man,” Matt says. “I’m not there.”

“What do you mean...you _left them?”_

“I had to!” Matt says. “I’m flying to the nearest base. Shiro disabled all of the castle’s communications. We need backup, we only have three lions available.”

Lance feels a surge of guilt, remembering the state Red had been in the last time Lance had seen her. “Only three…” Lance trails off. “Wait, why only three? Where’s Keith?”

Shiro looks at him, paling.

“Lance–”

“What happened to Keith?”

“Nothing,” Matt says. “Well, that I know of. Keith...after you left...he wanted to take Shiro down once and for all. He got the others involved. He told Shiro that he was taking the black lion back. They fought, and now Black isn’t letting _anyone_ pilot her.”

Lance lets this information sink in. Of _course_ Keith did. “So where is he now?”

Matt looks away, and Lance can see a hint of guilt in his features. “He’s on the castle with Shiro,” he says.

Lance nearly trips, panic rising in his throat. He says, “I have to get over there.”

“Lance, the castle is overrun with Galra. Get off of Haggar’s ship and wait for me to return with reinforcements.”

“No, I have to go there.” He staggers as the ship is hit again. “I need to talk to Hunk,” Lance says.

“Your communicator should work,” Matt says. “All of the Voltron lions are on the network.”

Lance nods, heart in his throat. He can feel the phantom heat of Not-Shiro’s Galra arm burning the back of his neck.

“I’ll be back as soon as I can,” Matt says. “You be careful out there.”

“Same to you,” Lance says. “I’ll see you soon.”

Matt nods, and the call disconnects. Shiro is giving Lance a look that Lance can’t comprehend in this moment, so he ignores it.

There’s the ear-splitting roar of shredding metal from the outside of the ship, and Lance hurries to program the yellow lion’s comm code. He stops running then, staring down at the screen.

Lance feels nervous in a way he hasn’t been in a long time, thinking of talking to Hunk. Hunk has been under the assumption that Lance is dead for several days now, and Lance deliberately did that to him. What if he resents Lance for putting him through that pain?

Lance feels a hand fall on his shoulder, and he looks over at Shiro. He isn’t quite smiling at Lance, but his expression is open and comforting. He says, “Hey, it’s just Hunk. It’ll be fine.”

Lance knows in this moment that this is the real Shiro. He takes a moment to compose himself, then calls Hunk.

The call connects almost immediately, and Hunk says, “No, Allura, I’m _not_ leaving.”

Lance says, “Hunk.”

Hunk bulldozes over him. “No, I’m tired of this shit. I’m done. This is a family of idiotic, self-sacrificing pieces of shit, and I refuse to be a part of it. It was bad enough when Keith did it the first time, and now he’s trying it again. And _before you say anything_ about how what I’m doing may _seem_ like something an idiotic, self-sacrificing piece of shit would do, I would have you know that it’s not. I’m proving a point.”

“ _Hunk_ ,” Lance says, more emphatically.

“If we hadn’t left Lance on his own to...Lance?” Hunk finally catches sight of him. “What’s... _Lance?_ ”

“Hey Hunk,” Lance says. “How’s it going?”

Hunk gapes at him, and Lance watches as color rises in his cheeks. He says, “You fucking _dick_ , I thought you were _dead_.”

Lance winces. “Yeah, I know,” he says. “Technically, I did almost die.”

“You didn’t tell _any of us_ what was happening!”

“Yeah, I know,” Lance says again. “I told Matt?”

“You just...you just let yourself suffer all alone! You dick!”

“Hunk, I was _fine_.”

“You weren’t!”  


“Look,” Lance says. “This isn’t...you can yell at me later. We need you to stop attacking Haggar’s ship.”

“Why?”

“Because we’re on it, dingus!” Lance says exasperatedly. “And I would very much appreciate if you didn’t destroy it right now, thank you.”

“ _What?_ ” Hunk says, eyes wide. “What are you...how... _We?_ ”

“No time to explain,” Lance says quickly. “Just get to the uhhh…” Lance looks around. “Northeast hangar? We’ll meet you there.”

“On it,” Hunk says, nodding determinately at Lance. Lance nods back, and is about to end the call when Hunk interrupts him.

“Wait,” he says.

Lance stops, waiting.

“I just,” Hunk looks suddenly misty-eyed, and Lance’s heart clenches. “I really love you, Lance. You know that, right?”

Lance feels his eyes growing hot, blinking down at Hunk. “Yeah,” he says. “I know. I love you too.”

“And I’m sorry this happened to you,” Hunk says. “I’m sorry I didn’t notice. I...We fucked up. I’m so sorry, Lance.”

Lance, taken aback, says, “Thank you, man, but–”

“No, shut up,” Hunk says. “I’m still mad at you, though. Get to that hangar, I’ll see you soon.”

He cuts the call then, and Lance looks up at Shiro, who looks shaken.

“What was he talking about?” Shiro asks. “What happened to you?” Lance waves him off.

“Too much for right now,” Lance says. “We have to move.”

He points Shiro in the right direction, and they start moving again. The ship is no longer under direct attack, but there are no signs of druids or sentries, which is worrying. They must really be throwing everything they have at the castle.

They take a right, headed in the direction of the hangar Lance mentioned. Lance’s memory of the ship is vague, but he thinks he remembers enough to get them out of here. He keeps his gun up, ready for any person trying to do them harm. Shiro has his gun clenched tightly in his fist, watching their back.

Lance stops before they take another turn, peering around the corner to check that it is clear. It is, so he waves Shiro forward. Lance pauses before he follows, hearing something.

He looks down the other side of the hall, to the left. At the end of it is a wide, open doorway, orange light spilling out of it and into the corridor. Lance can hear the faintest sound of the buzzing, deep drone that the druids emit coming from it.

Shiro stops moving, turning to Lance with a look like, “ _Well, are we going?”_ Lance holds up one finger, before sprinting down the hall towards the door.

He keeps to the sides of the hall, hidden in shadow, though when he reaches the door he finds that none of the druids are in any state to notice him. They stand, arms outstretched, giving their energy to a long cannon at the end of the hall. Haggar stands among them, hunched over a control panel. Lance is reminded of Naxzela, of both Not-Shiro and Shiro, and the extraordinary cruelty Haggar is capable of. His friends are on the other side of that cannon.

Lance feels someone approach him from behind, and Shiro whispers, “What are they doing?”

“Cannon,” Lance whispers back. His hands clench on his gun. He thinks of Hunk saying, _“This is a family of idiotic, self-sacrificing pieces of shit.”_

Lance turns to glance at Shiro sidelong. He says, “You need to go.”

“What?” Shiro whispers, incredulously. “Lance, no.”

“We can’t let them charge that cannon,” Lance says. “It’ll take out everything in its path, including our friends. I need to do something.”

“Then we can do something together,” Shiro says.

Lance turns to look fully at Shiro. He’s skinny, small-looking in his ratty prisoner’s clothes. He’s still blinking hard, his eyes darting around. His handgun shakes in his hand. Lance shakes his head.

“No, Shiro, listen.” Shiro starts to protest, and Lance shakes his head. “No, you need to get back to the castle. We need you in Black.”

“Lance…”

“I’ll be fine,” Lance says quickly. “I just have to distract them.” He jerks his head towards the druids. “Go meet Hunk. Tell him what I’m doing. I’ll stop them from firing their weapon, and it will buy time for Matt to come back with reinforcements.”

Shiro looks conflicted, but Lance knows he’s right. If Haggar destroys the castle, they’re done for. All of their resources, the wormhole technology, Black and Red, all of it will be gone. _Keith_ will be gone.

“Go,” Lance says. “I’ll be right behind you. The others need help.”

Shiro bites his lip, looking torn, but he nods. Then, surprisingly, he pulls Lance into a hug, wrapping his arm around Lance’s shoulders.

“You’re a good kid,” Shiro says. “A good man now, I guess.  Geez, you’ve grown up so much.”

Lance ducks his head, blushing.

“You’re going to make it out of here,” Shiro says. “Or at least, you’d better.” He leans back, patting Lance on the shoulder awkwardly with his gun hand. “I’ll make sure Hunk doesn’t tear the place apart looking for you.”

Lance laughs. “Good,” he says. “I’ll see you later?”

“Right,” Shiro says. He starts to back away, back in the direction of the hangar. “Be _careful.”_

“Yeah, yeah,” Lance says. “Now, _go._ ”

Shiro turns and runs, and Lance looks back to the room with the druids. They’re still chanting, the sound bouncing off the walls. Lance shoulders his weapon.

“Alright, you spooky shits,” he mutters. He lifts the barrel of the gun, aiming straight at Haggar. He longs for his sniper rifle, but this will do in a pinch. He closes one eye. “It’s go time.”

He takes the shot.

***

If Keith’s being honest with himself, things aren’t going too great.

Shiro throws him back against the main console of the castle. Shiro’s Galra hand is grasped tightly around the blade, pressing it down on Keith’s chest. Keith can feel the heat of it blistering his chest beneath the uniform.

Keith’s arms shake, using both hands in an attempt to push Shiro off of him. He can feel his arms shaking, his breath coming shallower. He’s getting tired.

Shiro leans down, face uncomfortably close to Keith’s. Keith leans back, but he’s already pressed uncomfortably to the console. Shiro’s mouth is open wide, the droning noise rising to a shriek. His eyes roll in his head, and Keith watches as the thing under Shiro’s skin slithers from cheek to forehead. This thing no longer resembles Keith’s brother in any way. Spit drips nastily onto Keith’s face, and Keith snarls back, kneeing up into Shiro’s stomach.

Shiro bucks, but doesn’t budge. Keith knees him again, and again, but Shiro remains. It feels as though Keith’s spine is going to snap in half. Shiro throws all of his weight down on Keith, and Keith’s head slams against the console, silencing the sound of Pidge and Allura arguing over the comms.

The low sound Shiro is emitting becomes the only sound, and this close to Shiro Keith can hear how it comes from deep within Shiro’s throat, gurgling wetly. Keith is dazed for a moment after hitting his head, and Shiro takes the opportunity to press even closer.

Keith grits his teeth, bracing himself, and the deactivates his sword. Without the sword between them, Shiro crashes onto Keith’s chest, catching himself on the console beside Keith’s head. Keith throws all of his strength into his legs, throwing Shiro off of him and to the side.

Keith staggers away, turning to face Shiro and activating his sword once more. Shiro picks himself up, leaving his hands on the console and looking at Keith over one shoulder. His metal hand melts through the surface of it, sparks flying. They light him up in flashes of white, a monochrome picture. White face, black eyes, wide gaping mouth. Keith breathes heavily, trying to gather himself. He can feel his movements become more desperate. He’s reacting, not thinking.

Keith twirls his sword in his hand, shifting his weight from one foot to the other. Shiro’s human arm twitches, and his neck cracks. The Galra arm droops from the shoulder, and he reaches over to shift it into place.

“You look like he did,” Shiro says. “Like an animal, a wild thing. You look like you want to live.”

He turns fully, lurching forward at Keith, who takes a step back. “I wasn’t there, but I saw him. _She_ showed me.” He jerks his head in the direction of Haggar’s ship. “I saw the light leave his eyes.”

“Talk about Lance one more time and I’ll slit your throat,” Keith says.

“I saw the red lion fall. I saw him scratch at the ground. He was so scared. Pathetic.” Shiro takes another step forward, and Keith’s grip tightens on his sword. “It will be the same, with you. Pathetic.”

Another step, but then Shiro pauses, straightening. He looks away from Keith, towards the entrance of the bridge. Keith tenses, waiting.

Shiro stares for a long time, completely still. He doesn’t breathe, just watches the door, as though waiting for something.

Keith doesn’t hesitate to take advantage of his distraction. He charges, moving full speed at Shiro. This is his chance. He can’t miss it.

Shiro’s Galra arm shoots up, grabbing Keith’s neck. He moves so fast, Keith doesn’t even register it. But Keith is tired, feeling more sluggish by the second. Shiro’s fingers clench on his neck, and he lifts a choking Keith in the air. His gaze never leaves the doorway.

Keith kicks at him, raising his hands to try and pry the metal fingers from his neck. It registers in Keith’s mind that if Shiro were to activate his arm, Keith would be killed instantly. He struggles harder.

Shiro doesn’t move, his face flat. The noise he’s been making this entire time stops, and the only sound in the room is Keith’s desperate breathing. Shiro’s face begins to distort, twisting into a look of pure rage. His grip tightens on Keith’s neck, and Keith gasps.

In a flash, a figure emerges from the dark doorway, arm outstretched and blaster in hand. He’s shooting at Shiro before he’s even fully in the room, and Keith drops to the floor.

Keith coughs wetly. Every breath he takes like razors down his throat, and he can barely see through the blur of pained tears. He struggles for breath, unable to bring himself to sit up.

For a moment, he lets himself wish for Lance. Lying on the cold ground, he imagines his mysterious savior is his boyfriend. The rational part of Keith wouldn’t want Lance anywhere near this place. That part would rather Lance be somewhere far, far away from here, safe and warm and happy.

The other part, though, the lovesick part, the part that’s aching, that’s a different story. The part of Keith that can’t seem to get warm, the part that’s counting the days, hours, minutes, seconds since he last talked to Lance, that part can picture with perfect clarity what Lance would look like, strolling through that door. He can see Lance, his steady hands, his bright eyes. Keith is crumbling under the weight of missing him. He’s been crushed by something far worse than Shiro’s grip.

This dream only lasts a moment, he doesn’t allow it to continue. He pushes himself up with his arms, spitting at the ground. When he finally looks to see who saved him, it’s not Lance.

Keith’s mouth drops open, and Shiro must have hit him harder than he thought, because there are two Shiros.

The other Shiro, he looks almost as different as the one Keith has been fighting. He’s thin, with dark bags under his eyes and an awkward haircut. There is more white peppered through his dark hair, and he’s missing one arm.

The one arm he has is outstretched, aiming a gun at the monster Keith has been fighting. Keith can see the finest tremor in it, and he’s not sure whether it’s weakness, or the obvious rage Shiro is exuding that’s causing him to shake.

The Shiro that Keith has been fighting, the imposter, remains eerily still and silent.

The new Shiro’s lip curls, and he says, “You’re not going to hurt them anymore.”

Not-Shiro remains silent.

Keith gets to his feet, legs shaking. He doesn’t know who this new Shiro is, but he can’t afford to waste this time. He stumbles to where Coran is laying, turning him over onto his back.

The sound starts to build again, a low growl in Not-Shiro’s chest.

Keith, presses his head to Coran’s chest, listening for a heartbeat. He can’t even remember if this is where Alteans’ hearts are placed, but Coran is breathing shallowly. The new Shiro looks over at him, never dropping his arm. “Keith,” he says. “Listen to me, Lance is on Haggar’s ship.”

Keith pauses in his examination to gape up at him. “Shiro?” he asks, disbelief coloring his voice.

Shiro nods, and his eyes are pained, but there’s a hint of relief in his features, like he’s happy to see Keith. Keith recognizes that look, the soft set to Shiro’s mouth, the relaxed angle of his eyebrows. Underneath the sallow skin and unruly hair, this man looks like Keith’s brother.

And Keith has been burned before. He remembers the feeling of finding Shiro in that Galra ship out in open space, the wave of relief, the happy laughter and tears. They had been so relieved to find Shiro that they hadn’t bothered protecting themselves. They’d left themselves open and vulnerable.

But Keith has been fighting for a long time, hurting for longer. His heart is battered beyond recognition, and he’s weak to it. He’s weak to the deflating balloon of relief in his chest, the part of his brain that never grew out of the thought that his big brother will make things okay again.

Shiro looks back at Not-Shiro, face settling back into a glare. The clone takes a cautious step forward, head tilting. He looks like a cornered animal, every sense focused entirely on Shiro.

“She was using me against you,” Shiro says. “I can’t forgive that. We’re ending this today, starting here.”

The volume of the noise starts to rise again, Not-Shiro’s mouth opening in a snarl.

“But Lance needs help,” Shiro continues. “You need to–”

“Absolutely not,” Keith says. “I’m getting fucking tired of people telling me what I _need_ to do today.” He walks over, silently apologizing to Coran. Hopefully this will be over soon, and they’ll be able to get him into a healing pod.

He moves to stand at Shiro’s side, sword ready. “What I need, is to take this asshole out,” Keith says. “It’s nice of you to join me.”

Shiro huffs out a laugh. “I should have known,” Shiro says. “It was stupid of me to think a year was long enough to teach you some manners.”

Not-Shiro roars at them, chest heaving. His arm whines softly, glowing purple.

Keith snorts. “A lifetime wouldn’t be long enough,” he says.

The clone charges, feet stomping hard on the ground. Keith and Shiro meet it head on.

***

“Shitshitshitshitshit,” Lance says, running as fast as he can through Haggar’s ship. When he’d shot her, she had disappeared in a flash, a pile of robes left in her place. The druids around her turned in unison, eyes locked on Lance. He skids around a corner, seeing the area he had just been in light up with the force of the druid’s magic.

He thinks he’s almost to the hangar he had told Shiro to go to, but he could be wrong. Everywhere he looks there is another druid waiting, crackling energy in their palms. He’s starting to lag, body aching from the hits he’s already taken of their magic. He’s not even sure the hangar is a good idea, whether he will be able to get on a ship and out of there before the druids take him down. His communicator starts ringing in his pocket, and he groans.

“Hunk this is _really_ not the time,” he says upon answering. A bolt shoots just passed his ear, singeing one side of his hair, and he yelps.

“Holy shit!” Hunk says. “What did you do?”

“What do you _think_ I–Fuck!” He has to turn another corner, bashing one shoulder into the wall. He reaches back, shooting his remaining handgun at his pursuers.

“I’m on my way back,” Hunk says. “The girls too. Just try and hold on till then.”

“Does it look like I’m not trying?” Lance says. “Because I’m–”

He screams as his leg erupts into fire, a lucky blast catching him in the thigh. He trips, and the communicator goes flying. He can hear Hunk calling his name, but he can’t focus on that.

He grabs the rifle from his back, turning over to shoot at the approaching druids. He catches a few of them, throwing them back, but soon he’s surrounded on all sides by them. Their blue-black grasping hands pulling his weapon from him, pinning him to the ground. Lance struggles as much as he can, kicking and bucking in an attempt to push them off of him, but he is overwhelmed.

Several of them pin his limbs down to the ground, and their hands are icy even through his space suit. Another druid kneels behind him, wrapping its long fingers around his face and pushing his head painfully against the floor.

The buzzing and moaning coming from them is unbearable, and he glares up at their blank faces. His heart is beating loud in his ears, and he’s terrified. He’s pants-shittingly terrified, but he refuses to give up. Not when he’s so close to finishing this. Not when he’s almost home.

Abruptly, the noise stops.

Lance struggles to speak around the fingers pushing into his cheeks. “What the–”

There is the sound of footsteps, calmly approaching. Lance can’t look to see who it is, trapped as he is, but he doesn’t have to wait long to learn their identity.

“It’s interesting,” a raspy voice says, “to see how far you have come, Paladin. Humans really are a fascinating species.”

A figure emerges, yellow eyes glowing menacingly from under a hood. Haggar looks no worse for wear, though she wears a frown on her lips. “My plan was flawless,” she says. “And yet, here you are.”

“Sounds like it wasn’t flawless then,” Lance says, unable to help himself.

The druids drag him up, lifting him off of the ground and at eye level with Haggar. He can’t believe that this woman is the same species as Allura and Coran, who are both hearty, healthy people. Haggar is cold. She is a shriveled, mangled, shell of a thing. She brings her bony, clawed hands up to Lance’s face, pushing the pads of her fingers against his cheeks. Lance glares as she makes her observations, opening his eyes wide with two fingers, smoothing her palms down the sides of his face.

“What is it about you humans?” she asks conversationally. She sticks her thumbs roughly into the joints of his jaw, forcing his mouth open. “My Champion as well, he was so...spirited.”

She pushes two fingers into his mouth, and he bites down. She pulls her fingers free, and the druids holding him shoot electricity directly into him.

Once Lance has stopped screaming, Haggar resumes her examination. “My Champion, you took him from me,” she says. “You took them all, all of my creations.”

“He was never yours,” Lance says. “He’ll never be yours.”

“He was mine,” she says. “He is. This doesn’t change that.” Haggar takes a step back, hands disappearing back into her cloak. “He will come back to me. But until then, you will be a worthy replacement.”

“Like fuck I will,” Lance says. “The others are coming to get me as we speak.”

“They may try,” she says, turning away. Lance attempts once more to jerk away, opening his mouth to curse at her. The druid holding his head slides its hand down, covering his mouth. Lance’s stomach twists in revulsion at the smell of its skin.

Haggar looks at one of the druids that isn’t holding Lance. “We’re leaving,” she says. “Project Kuron was a failure. We will regroup–”

She stops suddenly, and there’s a horrible gurgling noise, and Lance watches as the back of her cloak bulges, then bursts. A blade shoots through, dripping black blood. The druids around Lance stiffen, then start to jerk, dropping Lance to the ground.

Haggar hunches forward, curling in on the sword. A wet sounding cough erupts from her, and the druids begin to seize. There is no sound other than the sound of the druids’ rustling cloaks, and what must be Haggar coughing out blood.

Lance scrambles backward, away from them. The druid that had taken his rifle drops it, and he dives for it, turning to aim at Haggar’s twitching back.

Haggar drops to her knees, and Lance is confused to see no one there, as though the sword acted on its own. Then, Lotor deactivates his cloaking, and Lance feels his blood turn to ice.

“Lotor,” Lance breathes. He tightens his grip on his gun. “Lotor.. _.what–”_

Lotor pulls his sword, dragging Haggar’s retching body forward. He presses a foot against her shoulder, kicking her back and prying her off of his weapon. She collapses backwards, and Lance can see her struggle for breath, blood bubbling out of her mouth and down her neck.

Lance swallows, raising his gun further up his shoulder. “Explain,” he says simply.

Lotor doesn’t say anything, looking down at Lance like Lance is something unpleasant. Haggar takes a few last, heaving breaths. She arches her back, fingers curled under her chin. She stills.

Around them, the druids start to burst into clouds of ash, coating Lance and Lotor in gray dust. Their robes and masks drop heavily to the floor. The hall is silent.

“She has remained a thorn in my side for far too long,” Lotor says eventually. He bends to wipe his sword free of blood on Haggar’s robes. Her eyes remain open, unseeing, and Lance notices they’ve dimmed to reveal multi-colored pupils.

Lance is having a hard time comprehending what is happening. His mind is moving a mile a minute, but the thought he keeps falling back on is, _“That was his mother.”_

Lotor steps over Haggar’s body, and Lance unconsciously tenses, lifting his gun. Lotor sneers down at him.

“Please, you’re not worth my time,” Lotor says. He’s wearing a white suit of armor, similar to the paladin’s armor but lacking the light blue accents. Instead, there is a bright green triangle in the center of the chest plate lighting Lotor’s face from below, like a child telling scary stories at a sleepover. “You have three dobashes to get off of my ship.”

He continues walking, passed Lance and deeper into the ship. “Pray that we don’t meet again, Blue Paladin Lance,” he says over his shoulder.  

And just like that, he’s gone.

Lance stands quickly, torn. This is the second time Lotor has saved the team, but accepting his terms and letting him escape leaves Lance with an awful feeling.

But he thinks of the others, still out there fighting. He sent Shiro into a den of wolves, fresh from a year of confinement. Lance looks down at Hagger, at the masks littered around her, and he shivers.

Taking down Lotor will have to wait for another day. Lance sets off at a run down the corridor.

***

It takes much longer than Hunk would like to get back to Haggar’s ship.

There are still so many ships, and Pidge and Allura are struggling while Hunk plays chauffeur. Hunk pushes Yellow as fast as she can go, destroying as many ships as they can on the way.

He’s still reeling from earlier, when he’d crashed into the hangar of Haggar’s ship expecting to see his best friend and finding Shiro instead.

He’d dropped the exit ramp of Yellow, running to meet Shiro at the opening.

“ _Shiro?”_ he had asked, gaping. He caught Shiro by the shoulders at the top of the ramp, looking at him. “Holy shit, is it really you? Like, really, really?”

Shiro had pulled back, laughing slightly. “As far as I know, yes,” Shiro said. He clapped Hunk on the shoulder. “It’s _really_ good to see you, Hunk. You have no idea, but we have to go now.”

Hunk had nodded then, following Shiro back into Yellow.

Now, racing back to the ship, Hunk feels almost as though his stomach is full of butterflies, a combination of his own nerves and Yellow’s building excitement. It feels as though this whole nightmare is coming to a head, and he isn’t sure yet if the inevitable outcome.

Lance’s call had spurred Hunk to move even faster, smashing ships to pieces and dodging ion cannons. Hunk is so focused on his destination that he almost doesn’t notice the holoscreen popping up in his peripheral vision.

“Hunk, I swear to _fucking_ god if you try and block me from calling you ever again you will never know peace,” Pidge snarls over the comm.

“Not a good time, Pidge,” Hunk says.

“Of course it isn’t! We’re fighting for our lives here!” she yells. “What the hell are you doing?”

“It’s kind of a long story–”

“I _don’t care_ ,” Pidge says. “I’m patching Allura in.”

Hunk sighs, waiting for Allura to patch in. When she does, she looks frazzled and more than a little angry. “Explain,” she says.

“Allura…”

“ _Explain_.”

Hunk sighs again, clawing through the hull of a Galra cruiser and pushing away as that side of the ship explodes. “Well, Lance is alive.”

The comm bursts in an explosion of sound, and Hunk has to yell over the others. “ _Listen!_ He’s alive, but he’s on Haggar’s ship.”

“How the hell did he get there?” Pidge asks.

“What was he _doing_ there?” Allura says.

“Well, he was rescuing Shiro.”

Another explosion of sound, and Hunk frowns in annoyance. He continues without waiting for them to calm down. “ _And_ I needed to get them off of the ship, but then Lance had to stay back. So I took Shiro back to the ship to help Keith, and now I’m going back for Lance.”

Allura opens her mouth, then closes it, then opens it again. “Okay,” she says.

“ _Okay?”_ Pidge says, incredulously.

“Okay,” Allura says. “I’ve given up on assuming anything about this situation makes sense. Hunk, we will cover you.”

“Thanks, Princess,” Hunk says, relieved. Allura cuts herself from the call.

“I am _so_ confused,” Pidge says. “Is this how you all feel all the time? I hate it.”

Hunk rolls his eyes. “Okay, are we done?” he asks. “I kind of have things to do, here.”

“Ooh, touchy,” Pidge answers, but she doesn’t leave. Hunk glances over at her and is surprised to see that she looks oddly vulnerable, biting her lip and glancing at Hunk through the comm.

“What?” he says.

“Nothing,” Pidge says, defensive. Then, “They’re really okay? Lance and Shiro?”

Hunk softens. “Yeah,” he says. “Or, at least, I hope they will be.”

“And it’s them?”

Hunk bites the inside of his cheek, unsure. “Lance seems to believe it’s him,” he says. “And right now that’s good enough for me.”

“How did he look?”

Hunk hesitates again. He settles on, “Tired.” He scratches the side of his face. “ _Skinny._ I’m going to make him a fucking feast.”

Pidge nods. “Right,” she says. “Well, good luck.”

“Thanks, Pidge.”

“Bring him back. I still have to yell at him.”

“I’ll do my best,” Hunk says. He turns his head slightly, grinning at her. “This is gonna work out. I have a feeling.”

“You better be right,” Pidge says. “Or I’m going to kick all of your asses. See you on the other side.”

He nods, and she ends the call.

Hunk approaches the ship, finally able to get close now that the girls are helping him. His stomach churns again with nervousness, but Lance is in there, and Hunk goes where Lance goes

The yellow lion roars, and Hunk smiles. They quickly find the northeast hangar, still open from when a squadron of fighter ships had emerged when the ship came in. It’s a tight fit, but Hunk manages to land Yellow fairly quickly before grabbing his bayard and clambering out of the lion.

He has his gun activated as he runs down the ramp, ready to charge in and save his friend, only to see Lance standing at the bottom of it, waiting expectantly. He has a large gun strapped to his back, and another on his hip. He wears a standard grade rebel spacesuit and a grin. Hunk is so happy to see him that it’s hard for him to breathe.

“ _Lance_ ,” Hunk says, and he watches as Lance’s grin widens. Lance meets Hunk halfway up the ramp, arms outstretched, and Hunk deactivates his bayard so he can throw his arms around his best friend.

“Jesus Christ,” Lance says, sniffling. “It is _so_ nice to see you, dude, you have no idea.”

“No, _you_ have no idea,” Hunk says. “I fucking missed you, dude.”

“I missed you more.”

“No, _I_ missed _you_ more.”

“No, _I_ missed–you know what? It’s not important right now.” Lance pulls himself away from Hunk, patting him on the shoulder. “We have to go.”

“Right, yeah, you’re right,” Hunk says. He grabs Lance’s wrist, pulling him up the ramp and gently pushing him forward. “Back to the castle?”

Lance nods. “It’s time to make that fucker pay,” he says, and there’s a mean look in his eyes that Hunk doesn’t recognize. This is slightly worrying.

“Right,” Hunk says again, nervously. He stops Lance, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Hey, you’re...are you okay?”

Lance, for a slight moment, looks completely exhausted. He shrugs. “I will be,” he says. “Probably.”

His shoulders droop, and Hunk is able to take him in fully. He looks battered. There’s a bruise at his forehead, and burns along the side of his head and neck. The bags under his eyes are darker than Hunk has ever seen them, considering Lance’s skincare routine.

Hunk wants to hug him again, but there’s no time for that. He nods at Lance, giving him a smile that Hunk hopes is reassuring. He vows to do it later though, and to make sure all of them get plenty of rest. For now, though, Hunk just moves back to the pilot seat. Lance is safe, here with him. Things are going to be okay.

“You ready, buddy?” Hunk says, looking back at Lance, standing behind the pilot seat.

“No,” Lance says. “But we’re going to go anyway.”

Hunk concedes the point, nodding. “Well, here we go.”

They set off, and shortly after Haggar’s ship disappears into the black.

***

Halfway through the fight with Not-Shiro, something changes.

Even after a year, Keith and Shiro are in tune with each other. Together, they’re able to overwhelm the clone. They never let it get a chance to regroup, or strike back. If Keith isn’t slashing at it with a sword, Shiro is shooting it. The connection is exhilarating, and Keith feels as though he’s gained a second wind.

Shiro still fights relatively well, even without his Galra arm. One of his strengths has always been his adaptability, and it’s still a marvel to see. Keith can tell he’s tiring far quicker than he used to, however. Keith tries to pick up the slack.

The clone dodges one well-aimed shot from Shiro, turning to the side, only to duck as Keith swings his sword horizontally, nearly slicing it in two. The clone takes a step back, and stumbles.

Keith darts forward, ready to take advantage of the fall, but Shiro holds him back. They watch as the clone staggers again, wavering. The noise–that _fucking_ noise, Keith is starting to get used to it–stops, and for a moment the clone is frozen. Then, it throws its head back and screams.

The scream is raw, inhuman. It rises to decibels painful for humans to experience at such close range, and Keith and Shiro duck, covering their ears. The crystal above them, which had been dimmed, shines brightly, too brightly, before darkening, only to brighten again. Keith looks over at Shiro, grimacing. He can see blood start to drip from Shiro’s one exposed ear, and he grits his teeth.

Keith drops his hands, resuming a fighting position. The clone remains frozen, back arched and head bent backwards. It screams and screams. Its skin ripples, parts of its face bulging and concaving. Keith braces himself, and then runs at it, ready to end this.

He almost succeeds, slicing downward, but right before his blade lands the clone’s mouth slams shut, and the noise stops. The clone’s galra arm deflects the sword, pushing Keith back. It straightens its back, turning the full force of its glare onto Keith. Its face is still rolling, the skin of it becoming slack and saggy. Its eyes are rolling, bloodshot and dim, with its eyelids sinking downward, exposing their red underbellies.

It shrieks unintelligibly at him, and Keith screams back. He’s so fucking tired and angry, he wants it to be over. This thing is looking less human by the minute, and Keith’s brother is back at his side. It’s time for this to be done.

He gives the fight everything he has, substituting his blade with his fists when the opportunity arises. He kicks the clone back until it’s the one pressed against the console, clawing and scraping at Keith with both of its arms. They’ve both abandoned all form and finesse. This fight is desperate and messy. Keith can see Shiro in his peripheral vision, attempting to find a good angle to shoot the clone, but Keith and the clone’s animalistic grappling gives him no opportunity.

Keith pulls back, raising his blade over his head and bringing it down in a solid chop, right at the clone’s shoulder where the Galra arm meets flesh. The sword sinks through, meeting the metal underneath, and the thing screams again, mouth wide in Keith’s face.

The Galra arm drops to the ground, and the clone brings its other arm up to claw at Keith’s face, dragging its nails down Keith’s face. Keith pulls back quickly, feeling the side of his face erupt in pain. The clone writhes against the console, turning from side to side. The liquid oozing from the amputated area isn’t blood, but something black and viscous. It drips heavily to the ground, and the pool it lands in ripples and shakes on the ground, as though alive.

Shiro steps forward, replacing Keith in front of the clone. He shoots and shoots, countless times. He puts holes in the clone that ooze more black liquid, the skin around the openings wriggling. The clone shrieks with every shot, its eyes wide and frenzied, but it doesn’t die.

Keith watches Shiro grit his teeth and step even closer, shooting and shooting. He even shoots it in the head, and the clone continues to scream, its third eye a gaping black hole.

It reaches backward, pushing itself up from the console with its remaining arm. It moves like its top heavy, falling forward and backward on unsteady legs. It’s almost pathetic, at this point. Keith steps forward, placing a hand on Shiro’s shoulder.

Shiro looks at him, and Keith looks back. There’s pain in Shiro’s eyes, deep pain, the kind that settles in your bones and never leaves. Whatever this thing is, it contributed to this shell of Keith’s big brother. Keith’s going to make sure this never happens again.

Keith steps forward, and moves steps out of his way. The clone makes one last move, reaching its ragged arm toward Keith, and Keith ducks out of its way, turning to the side and swinging his sword in a wide arch. The sword cuts through, and there’s a loud thunk as the clone’s head drops off of its shoulders, splattering to the ground.

The body falls forward, crashing, and Keith closes his eyes. The remaining silence presses in on Keith’s head and shoulders, hunching them. _“It’s done,”_ he thinks. _“We did it. It’s over.”_

Keith hears Shiro take a shuddering breath, and he opens his eyes. Shiro is staring down at the clone’s body, one hand raking down his face. Slowly, the room around them brightens, its various holoscreens and monitors lighting up that familiar blue.

The bright lights only serve to reveal the grotesque scene they’ve made. Aside from the clone, the bodies of the rebels that had been with Matt litter the room. After a moment, there’s a burst of static, and they hear the sound of the others talking fills the room.

“–And I can’t _believe_ that you would plan all of this _without telling us_ and that you would get my _brother involved._ My _brother,_ Lance, do you _know_ how hard it was to find him in the first place and then you–”

“Yes, Pidge, I’m sorry. I already told you I’m sorry.”

Keith looks up, then, eyes wide. He steps forward, slipping slightly on black blood.

“No, you _aren’t,_ you fucker. Don’t you lie to me!”

“I mean...it worked, didn’t it?”

“ _Lance_ ,” Keith breathes.

The argument stops, and a cluster of holoscreens burst onto the screen. There’s Allura and Pidge, in their respective lions. They look tired, but relatively okay. In Hunk’s window, Keith can see Hunk in his pilot seat, but behind him–

“Lance,” Keith says, louder. His voice wavers embarrassingly.

“Keith?” Lance says, bending forward over the back of Hunk’s chair. “Keith, oh my god–”

“You’re okay,” Keith says, slumping forward. He can’t tear his eyes away from Lance. “I...you’re okay.”

“Yeah, Keith, I’m okay,” Lance says. “Are you okay? Where’s clone Shiro?”

“I said you’d be okay,” Keith says. “I knew you were okay. I didn’t let them–”

“Keith,” Lance says. “We’re on our way. Just stay where you are, we’ll–”

Keith nods, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. “We’re okay,” he says.

“We are,” Lance says, and Hunk gently pushes him back.

“I’m still flying here, Romeo,” Hunk says, but he smiles back at Keith. “See? No self-sacrificing necessary.”

Keith laughs. Shiro steps up then, looking into the screens. Allura and Pidge gasp when he enters view, and Keith is content to let him take over. The weight of his exhaustion is starting to settle in. “The clone is dead,” Shiro says. “We’re all good here. Tell us what we need to do.”

“There might still be Galra on the ship,” Keith says. “We need to...Oh my god, Coran–”

“Coran?” Allura says, voice panicked. “Is he alive? Is he okay?”

“He needs a healing pod,” Keith says. “We’ll take him now that the castle’s back online.”

Allura nods, but Keith can still see the fear in her eyes. “Please hurry,” she says.

“Right,” Hunk says. “You do that, and we’ll take out the _still ridiculously high_ number of Galra ships by _ourselves_.”

“Or not,” Pidge says. “Look.”

Keith looks away from the holoscreens, and in the distance he can see a fleet of ships approaching. From where Keith is, they look like Blade ships with a few rebel fighters mixed in, and Keith breathes a huge sigh of relief.

“ _Hell_ yeah!” Lance says. “Matt actually came through!”

“What do you mean _actually?”_ Matt’s voice says, his own holoscreen popping into existence. “You all are _nothing_ without me.”

Pidge cheers at the sight of her brother, and everyone starts chattering. Keith feels a smile spread across his face against his will. It’s not like the fight is won yet, but it feels like they’ve been through the worst of it.

Keith is reluctant to part from the screens, but he has to. He leaves them bickering as he goes to Coran’s side. Keith is gathering Coran in his arms, ready to pull him up, when Coran gasps awake.

He blinks, dazed, up at Keith. “My boy,” he says, and his voice is soft and weak. His eyes widen. “Keith, Shiro–”

“It’s okay,” Keith reassures him. He pulls Coran to him, struggling to his feet with one of Coran’s arms around his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. We’re taking you to a healing pod.”

Shiro approaches from the other side, lifting Coran’s other arm over his shoulders. Coran spots him and jolts, pressing closer to Keith. Shiro’s face falls.

“Coran, no, it’s okay,” Keith soothes. “It’s really Shiro, you’re safe.”

Coran stiffens, looking at Keith, before sagging against Keith again. He doesn’t say anything else, and neither do Keith and Shiro. Together they make it through the halls to the medbay, keeping watch for straggling Galra soldiers. Keith’s mask stutters back to life after a bit, and he sees Shiro’s surprised look as Keith’s face is covered. Keith ignores him for now, not ready to reveal this particular development quite yet, and activates his comms.

“They’re retreating!” Hunk cheers. “Fucking finally, Matt.”

“It’s not _my_ fault an evil clone infiltrated your guys’ team and took away the phone service,” Matt says.

“That’s true evil, right there,” Lance says.

Keith listens to them bicker. It’s comforting, especially as him and Shiro push Coran gently into the healing pod. Coran is in bad shape, but luckily Alteans are hardier than humans are. He’ll be okay.

“Okay, we’re heading back to the castle,” Hunk says. “Everyone okay?”

The rest of them sound off, and Keith smiles. “Be careful when you’re back on the ship,” Keith says. “It seems like they’ve cleared off, but we can’t be too sure.”

“Right-o, Captain,” Lance says. “You be careful too. I’ll see you soon.”

“Yeah,” Keith says. He cuts the comm off, turning to look at Shiro.

Shiro raises an eyebrow at him, leaning back against a cot. After a moment of awkward silence, Shiro says, “So. Lance, huh?”

Keith groans. “Okay,” he says. “You’re definitely the real one.”

“What?” Shiro protests. He reaches his hand out to the side. “I’ve missed a whole year! Everything’s different! You’re all in different lions, you’re in the Blade of Marmora, you and Lance are, apparently–”

“Ugh, no, shut up,” Keith says, rubbing his face with his hands. “Stop it.”

“I will not,” Shiro says seriously, but he’s fighting a smile. “I demand answers, Keith. Who asked who out? How long have you been dating? Is he a good kisser?”

“ _Ugh_ ,” Keith says, throwing his head back. He turns and starts stomping out of the medbay. “I can’t deal with you. Let’s go see if there are any Galra around to punch.”

Shiro laughs behind him, but it ends on something like a sob. Keith freezes, turning back towards his brother.

Shiro is laughing, but there are tears falling down his face. “I’m sorry,” Shiro says, wiping the tears the best he can with his hand. “I just...Keith, it’s so nice to talk to you. It’s just...even with all this...you’re here, and I’m here, and–”

He breaks down, and Keith scrambles forward, arms outstretched. “Shiro,” he says, slightly panicked. “No, Shiro, don’t–”

“Come here, dummy,” Shiro says, and he pulls Keith forward by the shoulder into a hug.

Keith goes, wrapping his arms around Shiro. His brother feels different, smaller in his arms, and the hug isn’t as tight as the ones he’s used to, but once Keith’s chest is pressed against Shiro’s, Shiro lets out a deep, shuddering sigh. Keith squeezes him tightly.

“I missed you so much,” Keith says, because he had. Even with the clone here, Keith had been gone. He can feel something in his chest settle at the contact. It feels right. “I’m so sorry.”

Shiro shakes his head, and Keith can feel his lips trembling against Keith’s shoulder.

“You’re okay,” Keith says. “You’re okay now. You’re safe. We’re all here. We’ll keep you safe.”

Shiro nods, clutching Keith as hard as he can.

They remain that way until the others spill into the room, loud and happy and demanding hugs of their own.

As Shiro is pulled away from him, Keith feels a hand fall onto his shoulder. He turns, and there’s Lance.

Keith can feel his eyes unconsciously widening, as though his body needs to see as much of Lance as possible. Lance looks...tired, and injured. But his blue eyes are bright, his smile wide. Keith reaches out before he can register it, and Lance meets him halfway.

They crash together, wrapped tightly in each other’s arms. Lance ducks his head into Keith’s neck, trembling, and Keith rubs his hands up and down Lance’s back. Keith tightens his arms, feeling Lance solid and warm between them.

“What happened to laying low?” Keith says softly into Lance’s ear.

Lance shakes his head. “I’m sorry,” he says.

Keith scoffs. “No, you aren’t,” Keith says. Then, “You brought him back.”

Lance nods.

“That’s all that matters,” Keith says. “You brought him back safe to us, you did good. You did so well, Lance.”

Lance nods again, curling into Keith’s arms and bringing his arms in to clutch at Keith’s armor. “I was so scared,” Lance says, quiet so only Keith can hear him. “The whole time. I was terrified.”

“That’s okay,” Keith says. “You did it, Lance.”

Lance doesn’t say anything more, pulling away only to push back, pressing his lips against Keith’s. Keith sighs against it, limbs loosening.

This is Keith’s home. This castle, these people. This is where Keith sleeps. He hears catcalls in the background, and he’s pretty sure Shiro was the instigator.

He pulls one arm away from Lance’s shoulders to flip them off, and feels Lance smile.

***

_Text Log — Stardate 03042348:1056_

**Lance:** listen

 **Lance:** u need to do something about ur brother

 **Lance:** (ur real one)

 **Lance:** he’s going absolutely bonkers in the training room. i can’t control him. hes unfuckingstoppable and its going to get us killed

 **Lance:** has anyone been killed by being TOO sore before? bc if not im about to be the first

 **Keith:** Aw, let him have his fun.

 **Keith:** I think he’s just annoyed that now I have bigger muscles than he does.

 **Keith:** And anyway, training’s good for you.

 **Lance:** u only say that bc u DONT HAVE TO DO IT

 **Lance:** hes like an evil drill sergeant. i almost called him iverson a couple of times

 **Keith:** PLEASE tell him that. He’d hate it.

 **Lance:** would it make him stop trying to kill us if i did?

 **Lance:** i swear id do anything to make him stop. i never want to see weights again keith theyre ruining my naturally slim and lithe body shape

 **Keith:** Hey, look up.

Lance looks up from his phone from his spot sprawled pathetically across one of the couches in the lounge to see Keith in the doorway, already changed out of his Marmora uniform and in some of Lance’s comfortable clothing. One day, they’re going to have to go shopping for Keith to buy some clothing of his own, but until then Lance is going to enjoy the giddy feeling he gets when he sees Keith wearing his clothes.

Lance says, “Babe!” and spreads his arms wide in invitation. Keith drags his feet walking the short distance between the door to the lounge and the couch. When he reaches Lance, he doesn’t accept the hug like a normal person would, he just bellyflops on top of Lance, arms out to his side.

“Oof,” Lance says, but doesn’t hesitate to wrap his arms around Keith’s shoulders. “Long mission?” Lance asks.

“The longest,” Keith says, voice muffled against Lance’s collarbone.

Lance hums, rubbing Keith’s back. “Welcome home,” he says, leaning up to kiss the side of Keith’s head.

Keith grunts, mostly asleep already. Lance is fine with that. He loves when Keith is comfortable.

Since the whole Clone Shiro debacle, there was a difficult negotiation with the Blade of Marmora to keep Keith living on the castle with all of them. He still answers to Kolivan and the Blade, and he still goes on countless stealth missions for the organization, but he comes home to Lance. Lance is more than fine with that.

And it’s not as though Lance isn’t busy himself. Real Shiro needs a right hand man considerably more than Fake Shiro had. Lance’s days are filled with strategy meetings, diplomatic missions, and training. Not to mention the investigation Lance is leading on the Lotor Situation, as he’s taken to calling it in his head. Lotor had disappeared without a trace after that night, which is quite the feat when escaping in a ship as big as that one.

Lance tangles their legs together, burying his face in Keith’s dark hair. The pressure feels nice against Lance’s sore muscles. He can feel a nap rapidly approaching, his eyelids growing heavy.

Before he can fully fall asleep, Lance hears the sound of someone clearing their throat. He groans, opening one eye and looking to the doorway.

Hunk stands there, hands covering his eyes. “This is a public place!” he says.

“We’re just cuddling,” Lance says.

“Well, do it some other time, because I have something to show you.”

Lance groans again. “Right now?” he says.

“Yes, right now.”

“Ugh, okay,” Lance says. He pushes gently at Keith’s shoulder. “Hey, Keith,” he says softly. “I have to get up.”

Keith blinks awake, frowning. “Why?” he asks.

“Hunk wants to show me something.”

Keith huffs, sitting up and moving so Lance can stand. He rubs at his eyes, before getting up to follow Lance.

“Go back to sleep, dude,” Lance says. “You’re tired.”

“Naw,” Keith says. “It’s not as good. I’ll go with you.”

Lance feels his heart go liquid, and he knows he’s got a dopey look on his face as Keith slips his hand into Lance’s. “If you insist,” Lance says.

Keith nods, gesturing to the doorway, and they set off.

“So where are we going?” Lance asks Hunk as he gently leads half-asleep Keith around obstacles and sharp corners on their way to their destination.

“ _Well_ ,” Hunk says. “I know it’s taken a lot longer than it should have, considering all the repairs we had to make on the castle, but I made it a priority and...voila!” He stops in front of a door, gesturing at it.

Lance looks at the door, and his mouth drops open. “ _No_ ,” Lance says. “Already? Really?”

“Really,” Hunk says. “Because I’m a genius, and Coran helped. I thought you would want to come and see this.”

Lance nods his head eagerly, bouncing on his toes a little. “Yes! Yes let’s go!” He elbows Keith awake, smiling in the face of Keith’s responding glare.

“What?” Keith asks, frowning.

“Dude, _look_ ,” Lance says, and Keith does. Keith’s mouth drops open.

“No!” Keith says, disbelievingly.

“Yes,” Hunk says proudly. “Now, do you want to go watch the red lion come back to life or what?”

Hunk laughs as the two of them race inside. Red is still lying on her side, eyes dim, but she looks considerably less scuffed and scorched. The large opening in her side is sealed, a gleaming red panel of metal.

Hunk comes up to stand beside them, pulling a tablet from his back pocket. “Okay,” he says, absentmindedly. “This should...and we just... _go!”_

There’s a sound like a sigh, and Lance watches as Red’s eyes slowly light up. A giant paw slides across the ground, pressing down to push her torso up and off of the ground.

The red lion rises, settling into the lions’ normal sitting position with her head held up high. Lance gasps as he feels a rush of warmth return to him, starting at the top of his head and running down to the tips of his toes. A fire comes to life in his chest, scorching him from the inside. He chokes on a laugh.

Next to him, still holding Lance’s hand, Keith lifts the other hand to his chest, head ducked down. There is a smile playing at his lips, soft and secret.

Lance looks up at the lion, smiling widely. “Welcome back,” he says.

Red shifts from foot to foot, her back legs rising to stand. She bends backwards, as though bowing, before pushing forward again.

Her roar echoes, bouncing around the room like laughter. She is joyful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh man!!!! its done!! its over!!! i can go and watch season 5 of voltron now bc i havent yet.
> 
> as always, you can find me over on [my tumblr.](https://wizzardblizzard.tumblr.com/)
> 
> i also made some [art](http://wizzardblizzard.tumblr.com/post/171531719365/echo-a-spark-by-usernicole-72k-summary-lance) for this fic and also for [the whole series](http://wizzardblizzard.tumblr.com/post/171532165360/the-flicker-series-by-usernicole-a-light-in-the) that i would really appreciate u reblogging (if u want)!! i am really proud of it
> 
> thank u all for reading this super long fic i love u!! 
> 
> #happilyeverafter #LetTeamVoltronSayFuck


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